Barry

Usually, I go along with life. I just follow the flow and try not change anything or put too much influence into anything. But, ever since I became The Flash, I haven't been able to be like that. I have to admit that there are some days that I wish I was normal old Barry Allen who couldn't get the love of his life even if she lived with him. Today, I would get my wish and I wouldn't even realize it. Typical me.

It started out when I was running late to meeting up with Iris. Her job as one of the main reporters of Central City Picture News had her busier than ever and it was rare that I got a day off from fighting metahumans to meet up. I was already late and Iris was already sore about Eddie's death. His death had hit me hard too because I still felt like I caused his death. Iris definitely wasn't helping.

"Hey, Iris!"

"Hey yourself, Barry Allen. I told you 7:30. Do you know what time it is?" Iris was tapping her foot.

I sighed and pretended to look at my watch. I don't know how I ever thought Iris was wonderful and the only one for me. She could be a real bitch at times.

"It is 7:40! You are 10 minutes late! TEN! Barry I can't keep doing this!"

"Then fine, Iris! I can't do this either. You know what my job is like! It can't always be about you! Sometimes, you need to stick your head out of the window and actually look at the world the way it is!" My cheek stung for a moment before the fast metabolism kicked in.

It didn't matter that the feeling was gone, it was the thought. After being beaten up by the wily criminals for Central City, I really didn't need more from my own girlfriend.

"Barry-"Iris started.

"Save it, Iris. That said everything."

Her eyes watered and for a moment I was afraid that she would start crying and it would make me look like a bad person. Thankfully, she turned and ran away. I was left standing there, alone and foolish, in front of the new café where my life came back to me, The Tea Witch.

Upset and frustrated at the mess my life had turned into, I quickly turned around to face the café doors. I could see my reflection in them. The person looking back at me didn't even look close to the Barry Allen. The hair cropped short to the skull, the bags under the eyes, the too tight clothes on the body, and the evenly spaced military footing made me look like a guy with really bad PTSD. I guess that is to be expected though, considering everything I had done and seen.

Tired of looking at my reflection, I pushed the café doors open. It was very quiet inside, almost as quiet as when I track down a criminal in their lair. The atmosphere, though, was calm and not expectant of a fight that would probably cause an earthquake or some other natural disaster.

"Can I help you to a seat?" A quiet and calm voice interrupted my turbulent thoughts and I looked down to find big green eyes surrounded by a mass of black curls that framed a heart shaped face.

Barry blinked and watched as one finely shaped eyebrow was raised in surprise. "Um, no thank you, I think I'll find a seat on my own." I said, looking around the café.

The walls were four different colors and each had their own theme. It was as if someone took four different café's and stuck them in the same place. It looked disorganized and chaotic but somehow peaceful at the same time. I looked at the maroon and gold bean bags warm fire place on one wall of the café. It called to me in the same way my Flash suit did. However, I was tired of the colors. They didn't make me feel the rush and warmth I usually did. Looking around again, I saw a blue wall with bronze tables and striped armchairs and sofas. This wall had a gigantic bookcase and a notification board next to it. My feet began moving me toward the section without me even noticing.

"Ah, I see you've chosen Rowena's section." The green-eyed woman was back again and I looked up from the book I had picked up.

It had been so long since I had held an actual book in my hand between juggling my job, my responsibilities as Flash, and being with Iris, that I hadn't even had the time to read a book. I looked at the woman more closely.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I've seen you around before…" I was hoping for her to give me her name and I held out my hand for her to shake it.

She set down the tray in her hands that I hadn't noticed before and shook my hand. "Harley. Just Harley." I raised an eyebrow at that.

"Barry, Barry Allen." I replied.

"I'm sorry, Miss Harley but I didn't order anything."

Maybe she was new at the job? She looked amused briefly before she held the cup of what didn't look coffee nor tea out to me. I slowly took the cup from her.

"It is my specialty, Mr. Allen. I have a gift of knowing what people like or want."

I frowned at her a little. In my line of work, we call that odd and possibly metahumanish.

"Relax, Mr. Allen, I am completely harmless."

Here, I noticed she looked amused again, as if enjoying a private joke.

"Try the cup, maybe you'll like it, maybe you won't. The first cup is always on the house and after that, it's your choice."

She smiled at him again and left to go back to the center that painted in warm browns and oranges. It was very neutral and looked welcoming, somewhat like the woman herself.

I looked between the woman and the drink that she had given me. I thought about whether or not she had motive to poison me. Then I looked at the book I had been reading before she gave me the drink. It was a book about exotic fairytales. I looked back at the drink. None of those heroes got anywhere without making a few mistakes. I brought the cup to my lips and blew some of the steam off of it. Carefully taking a sip, I waited for the poison.

The feelings of tension, depression, frustration, and loneliness melted away as though they never existed. The one sip left me with a sense of calmness that was so foreign to me that it startled me. Was it a paralyzing agent? I quickly tested my ability to move by curling my toes in my shoes. I was clearly still able to move. Cautiously, I took another sip and paid attention to the flavors that rolled over my tongue. The tea was slightly spicy at first taste and then a sweet flavor spread over my tongue, as though comforting it after the sting. It was very rejuvenating.

I looked back at Harley. She was sitting at the main counter reading a book and keeping one eye on her surroundings. I wondered what her story was for moving here. Central City wasn't exactly known for attracting new clients. Settling down into my armchair, I started reading the many fairytales of India. The cup in my hand slowly being drained and eventually set aside. The quietness of the whole place settled into me and I found myself drifting off eventually.

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