Shock. I'm almost certain that I'm in shock. I know the feeling. It's happened before, and it's happening now with reason.
I ran home after I saw it happen. I got stuck at the scene of the chaos where another mystery bad guy had attacked innocent people, and a red blur of electric speed ran past me. I knew exactly who it was. The Flash. "Ralph", or whatever. It was nothing unusual. It wasn't something crazy, something I'd never seen before. That wasn't what sent me into this state of complete and utter shock. I'm in shock because he stopped running, and I noticed something. Cuts on the back of his neck. Char on his suit. Ash in his hair, and finally, no mask. Naturally, I was curious. Maybe I'd finally discover who was behind it. Dumb of me to think that he wouldn't do the face shake blur thing again to make sure his identity remained a secret, right? Dumb of me to think I might actually find out. Dumb.
But, then he looked my way. Intentionally? I don't know, but I certainly didn't expect what I saw.. Or maybe I did.. I don't know. But I'm in shock, no less.
"Iris?!" he shouts, from the doorway. I keep walking. I've been walking around the house. I thought I might need to sit down, but I couldn't when I tried. I just need to keep walking, breathing, processing, panicking.
He spots me in the kitchen, pacing back and forth. I pause and look at him for only a second. He's still wearing his suit. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
"You're the Flash.." I point at him, speaking too fast. "You're.. you're him. Of course you're him. That makes sense, right? Struck by lightning. In a coma for nine months. Makes sense, right? You're the Flash. Of course, you're the flash. Makes… sense." I keep rambling like that to myself, desperately trying to process, waiting for my head to explode, and maybe the rest of me too.
"Iris, I—"
"Oh god. Oh god I spoke to you. About you. Face to face, I spoke to you as you not knowing it was you and you pretended all was well. What a joke. Silly Iris. Clueless Iris."
"No, I—"
"I flirted with you, didn't I? I had this weird crush on you. I was with Eddie. You were on my three list. Oh god. You were on my three list.. At least I can take you off that now. Here you are. I've already got you. You're already all mine. Guy of my dreams. All in one piece." I look him up and down. "Maybe a little dented, but still one piece. Awesome." Only half of that was sarcasm.
"Iris—"
"What the hell, Barry?" I can't stop talking. Will I ever stop talking? "What the hell?! I was believing in you. I put so much faith in you. You, Barry. Not The Flash. Not some alter ego. You." I think about every moment he masqueraded as "Barry Allen", the guy who didn't believe in The Flash. "Barry Allen", the guy who spent his whole life searching for proof of the thing that killed his Mom, and then all of the sudden shut down the thought of it. "Barry Allen", the guy who would never lie to "Iris West", the woman who put all her faith in Barry Allen. "You lied to me." I pause, coming down from my panic, and moving towards anger, frustration, bitterness, but mostly pain and hurt and sadness. "You tricked me." He isn't trying to defend himself now. He won't look me in the eye. One tear rolls off his cheek and splashes on the floor. Mine follow shortly afterward. "Why?" I speak in a broken voice. He sways back and forth on his feet for a moment, not moving his hands, not shrugging, not trying to make excuses, but shaking his head like he's softly refusing the current situation, and the pain and confusion that accompany it. I mimic his actions and slightly shake mine. Finally, his eyes move up, trying desperately to meet mine, hesitating before reaching for my chin, then my nose, and then my eyes.
"I wanted to tell you." he says, his lower lip quivering. His eyes are glossy. I watch him as he moves his tongue and lips around to stretch out his mouth to stop himself from crying, averting his eyes a few times and then trying to regain focus. I want to lash out. Ignore him. Be angry, and beat on his chest until we both can't take it anymore. But I want him to speak. I want to hear his reasons. "I never wanted to keep anything from you." Every sentence is stretched and lingering. He wants his words to stick. He wants me to understand, and I know that. I'm trying to. "Joe told me not to say anything, and I—"
"My Dad knows?" I say. Then I think again. "You're blaming my Dad?" I shouldn't have interrupted him.
"No—that's not what I—I agreed with him.." He pauses, taking a breath in, rubbing his eyes and biting his lip. "At first." he adds. "But the more I spoke to you, knowing what I was hiding, the more we hung out, the longer the lie went on, I was.. burdened with this overwhelming guilt and I didn't want to hide it anymore, I—I couldn't." His eyes are pleading with me. I'm trying to understand. I'm trying. "And I tried to tell you. I kept trying to tell you, wanting to tell you, but I—I got scared. Scared that you would be angry. Scared that you would hate me, that we would stop talking, that I would lose you, and I couldn't lose you, Iris. I can't lose you." He repeats his last sentence under his breath, and shakes his head again. He takes a step toward me, and without meaning to, I flinch, breaking eye contact. He steps back again. "But there's no real excuse for that, and I'm sorry." His gaze burns through me, sincere, desperate. "I'm so sorry." I still haven't looked back at him. It feels mean, but I'm still upset. I'm still hurt, and there are a thousand different thoughts running through my head that I can't shake. One in particular.
"And loving me? Was that a lie too?" It's a stupid thought. I can feel his confusion.
"What?"
"Do you really love me, or was that just another trick you could throw at me?" I feel ridiculous. This makes no sense, and I know it doesn't, but I'm angry. I'm upset. I'm hurt. I don't know what I'm saying.
"What? No, Iris. That's—That has nothing to do with it. What are you—"
"Because that's not love, Barry. That's not love. You don't say you love someone, and then lie to them about half your life."
"Iris, wait, that's—"
"You're my best friend, Barry! I tell you everything, you used to tell me everything too, but maybe you don't love me enough. Maybe I'm just delusional."
"Iris, stop! That's insane. I love you! I always have. That hasn't changed, and it never will." I know. I know that. I don't know what I'm saying, but I can't stop.
"Are you sure? Because I don't know, maybe you don't love me as much as you thought you did." One, two, three quick steps toward me, and his hands are on either side of my face, and his lips are on mine. I get my chance to beat on his chest, but it isn't as much relief as I'd hoped for. He pulls away when I do, but then I stop. My eyes soften, my shoulders relax. My fists loosen. "You've changed quite a bit, haven't you? The Flash made you pretty bold." I say, and it's true. He's never done anything without knowing he has my full permission, not that he didn't. He probably saw that, too. It's not like I actually didn't want him to kiss me. I'd much rather he did. I don't want to think about anything else anymore. I just want to be with him. His breath lingering on mine. We stare at each other for a few more moments.
"You can be mad at me all you want, but don't ever doubt that I love you." he says quietly.
I look him up and down, trying to decide if I have anything left to say. ".. I—" I begin, almost shouting, but he cuts me off again with his mouth against mine. It's a good thing he did too because I have no real idea what I was going to yell at him about. I throw my arms around his neck. I have all the answers I need. He didn't tell me because he couldn't. I can't try to process it anymore. I can't overthink it. It's not really that difficult to grasp, and as he kisses me, I feel myself letting go. Barry hasn't changed that much. He's still Barry. He's still kind, and selfless even in his most selfish moments, and true, and compassionate, honest in spite of everything, and real. He loves me. That's real. Everything else may be confusing, but Barry is still Barry and he still loves me.
My feet aren't on the ground anymore. His arms are fully around my waist and lifting me up to his level, kissing me hard and frantic, and passionate. I run my fingers through his hair. The cuts on his neck are gone, his skin is smooth and his hair is soft and slips through my fingers like sand. His arms tighten more and more as he kisses me, biting at my lips and breathing in what he can. There is a gust of wind on my back and my hair is blown in front of my face, and in an impulse I pull away, widening my eyes and looking around. He took us to his bedroom. He ran us here. He lifts one of his hands and moves my hair out of my face.
"Wha- I-" I begin, but he pulls me back in again and crashes his lips to mine. He pulls at my shirt and I let him, allowing it to slide off of my body, and land on the floor. Then he gently lays me down on the bed, kissing me softer now than before and moving his mouth down my neck and chest. I close my eyes, letting go.
I understand. I love you too.