Sinna.soo

It was never any shock to you that Wally took this job seriously. Ever since you were kids, you watched him devote himself to become a better man, a better hero. To put everything into this legacy he’d earned himself. Faster, strong, break every barrier.

You’d admired it, admired him, for as long as you could remember. From the day you met, Wally West inspired you to do good. To be good. Every mission by his side only made that admiration bloom into something more, something bigger. 

There was a time he was your best friend.

He was the only person you could turn to for comfort, who you could confide in about the nightmares that rocked your world and left you feeling like a zombie during the day. You spent more nights with him than you did alone, Wally showing up at your window within minutes of your tearful phone calls.

All the while, something was building beneath the surface. Something big and heavy that you couldn’t possibly hold back from him. Something akin to a four letter word you could never bring yourself to say.

And then it all went away. The nights of comfort, the casual banter, the effortless intimacy.  You’re not sure why you started to pull away from him, if it was something he did or if the love you carried was too much to bear.

All you remember is the sudden hurt he sported on his face, carefully masked with jokes and Flash facts. Typical of Wally to take it all and channel it into something more. 

Typical of Wally to take it out on other people, like he is right now.

It was his idea to spar. His idea to goad you onto the mat, to convince you that your hand to hand was sloppy and you needed help. It’ll be his idea when you take him out.

Wally throws a punch, you side step and shuffle back. He bounces on the balls of his feet, nervous energy coursing through his veins like lightning. You jab, throwing him off, before throwing a proper punch to his chest. He catches it, fingers digging into your wrist.

He’s distracted, only for a second, but now’s your chance.

You just barely manage to hook your leg behind his, tugging hard and sending him flat on his back on the mat. You go down with him, a forearm pressed over his throat. Wally grins, winded.

“Is this what you consider sloppy?” You ask, the words sharper than you meant them.

As quickly as he’s there, he’s gone, a painfully bright trail of lightning in his wake. You have no time to react before you’re pinned to the ground on your stomach, Wally’s knee digging into your back, his body pressed too closely to yours.

His mouth hovers over your ear, “don’t let your guard down.”

“Bullshit,” you manage to groan, squirming underneath him. “We said no powers.”

Your squirming leads to nothing but more pressure from Wally’s end, a strong arm propped on either side of your head keeping him up. While you’re thoroughly annoyed, Wally seems to relish in your suffering.

“Do you think anyone you fight for real is gonna care?” His tone is carefully neutral. “That they’re just gonna go, ‘yeah, sorry man, lemme just not use my powers to very easily kill you’?”

“F-fuck—” “Enough.”

Both of you tense at the sound of Dick’s voice, Wally suddenly on his feet and offering you a hand up. You refuse to take it. Instead, you force yourself to your knees on aching muscles, pain exploding behind your ribs.

Wally frowns when you wince.

“You guys are ridiculous.” Dick pinches the bridge of his nose like a disappointed dad, “if you need to burn off this tension so bad, just fuck like normal people.”

Wally shrugs, nonchalant. “Think a fight to the death would be healthier.”

It all hits you at once. Anger, humiliation, the weight of your lost friendship. A dam breaks in your chest. Hot, angry tears burn behind your eyes.

“Fuck you.” You finally meet Wally’s eyes, letting him see the tears brimming your lash line. “Fuck both of you.”

Wally calls your name. You slam the door harshly in response.

Wally wonders if he’s taken it too far when you’re nowhere to be found. He’d come to apologize, worried he’d pushed you too hard earlier, when he found your room empty. The common areas, the courtyard and the roof were all similarly empty. He finds your half-dead phone on the nightstand.

Anxiety flares in his chest. He’d never meant to upset you. He was teasing, trying to draw out that goofy side of you he’d missed so much. But now, seeing your abandoned room, your things abandoned without a care in the world, he wonders if he’s pushed you too far.

He asks Dick if he’s seen you since, makes Victor check the cameras, begs Garfield to see if he can sniff you out. All possibilities come up empty, leaving him with one last choice: tear this city apart until he finds you.

Your usual spots come up empty. The clubs, the theatres, all of them show no sign of you. Wally only gets more frantic the longer he goes without finding you. He turns the city upside down twice and still no sign of you.

He usually loves running but tonight it feels heavy. Like a burden. The air burns his lungs, his legs ache. All he wants is to rest but he can’t do that until he finds you. Until he makes this right.

He’s triple checking the city when a lightbulb goes off in his head, a last ditch idea of where you could possibly be. 

He stops just outside of the small, hilly clearing where you’re laying. He’s tucked himself away behind a tree, watching you carefully, suddenly wondering if it’s his place to interrupt. But the night is cold, and dark, and you’re out here all alone with no jacket, laying so still he wonders if you’re asleep.

You hear him coming long before he settles in beside you. Wiping your tears on the back of your hand, you draw your knees close and force yourself into a sitting position.

“What are you doing here, Walls?” 

Wally’s heart flutters at his nickname. It’s been so long since you called him that. There’s none of that earlier malice or frustration in your voice, no razor thin impatience lining every word.

“I came to apologize and then you weren’t in your room and I went looking and I—” He takes a deep breath, smiling apologetically, “I was worried.”

“Apologize?”

“For earlier. I took it too far.”

You cringe, remembering your aching ribs and the pain that flares in them when you move too much. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.”

You hum lowly, half agreeing with him. It’s not fine.

Wally slides towards you, reaching a hand out for the hem of your shirt. “Can I?”

And you find yourself nodding, letting him pull the fabric up so he can examine the damage he did. He sucks in a breath at the sight of the marks starting to litter your skin. He did this to you.

He rubs a thumb over your sensitive skin, goosebumps rising in his wake. You shiver from the cold and he lets your shirt drop back down over you.

“Fuck—” His voice cracks. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Sweetheart. The pet name buzzes around your head. Something bright and warm and familiar flares in your chest.

“I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, and you get the feeling he’s not just talking about today.

You keep your eyes ahead, not trusting yourself to look at him. It’s a serene night. Quiet and cool with a wide expanse of stars blooming in the sky. Stars you and Wally had laid under for hours one summer night, tangled up with each other in the very spots you are now.

“When did you stop loving me?”

You freeze. “What?”

You’re all too aware of his eyes on you. Not burning holes, not staring you down, just searching the tear stains on your face for answers like tea leaves at the bottom of a cup.

“That was—that was a lot, sorry.” He tries to laugh it off but it does nothing to ease the air. “I just thought we had something, you know?” His voice is tight and thick with tears, tugging at your heart strings. You let your eyes flutter shut and try to focus on your breathing, like that will make this easier.

“I didn’t think you knew…”

“Of course I knew. I know you.” He rests a hand next to your thigh, palm opened up like an offering. “I just don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Your words come quicker than you mean them too. “You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why did you stop loving me?” “I didn’t,” your voice breaks with more tears, “I never stopped.” “Then—then why?”

“I don’t know.”

Silence fills the cracks in your conversation, broken only by the occasional chirping of crickets. Wally's hand burns at your side, pulls you to grab him. 

“You know I love you, right?”

You’re torn in two. You’re sure a part of you, deep down, knew that already. Understood it for what it was. But a different part of you, a much bigger part of you, can’t seem to comprehend it. Can’t understand the absoluteness behind his words.

You don’t know what to say. You grab his hand.

“Do you think,” you say quietly, “I’ve messed this up too badly?”

He leans his head on your shoulder, soft hair brushing the cold skin of your neck. “Isn’t messed up kind of our thing?”

You laugh and Wally feels a thousand pounds lighter.

“I really do love you,” he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. 

“I-I love you too.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

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