#everytime i think about barry now i call him barry allen the flash bc of that 9/11 booster gold video

[rillette]

too tired to draw so i colored some old sketches o7 

[herstarburststories]

You left me ✘ Barry Allen Imagine ✘

✘ A/N: I'm not even gonna talk about my delay because y'all know me. School's last year is busyyyy. Also, angstttt. Tbh I do not consider this one too much angst. But well. I'm having seconds thoughts about the result but let's see it!

Beta: @lyss-91.

CHECK MY MASTERLIST (bio).

✘ Request: Can you do a Barry Allen X reader and Barry comes home from work and Y/N is gone because she got powers and she couldnt control them so she Avoided Him bc she didnt want to hurt him.

3 HOURS AGO

You looked around with a helpless smile. Every molecule of your body aching, trying to make yourself stop at that exact spot in the middle of the room and wait for him, not just walk through the door and run away.

But you knew that this was the closest act of doing the right thing you would ever do. It wasn't your wish to leave, it was an altruistic need.

You held the piece of paper with her trembling hands while stared at your unique calligraphy in the tough words written there. A single cold tear slipped down your cheek, landing on the letter; proof that it hurt as much as you'd demonstrate into words.

You sniffed and shook your head, pushing these feelings away from your rationality. Doing this was necessary.

Your scarlet boots echoed on the wooden floor as you walked toward the door.

A thump, the door closed.

And there was no love left inside the apartment.

                                ×××

CURRENT TIME

Dear Barry, 

No. That could not be happening. It wasn't possible, not even an imaginary option. Someone had tampered with this, right? He was a forensic scientist, he could grab it, take it to the lab and- 

Oh Jesus. That’s so cliché, huh? Dear and blah, blah, blah. Not exactly my cup of tea - I always wanted to say that-, the only romantic cliché that I ever experiencied was those annoying butterflies in my stomach everytime you touched my skin. 

No, that wit sugary could not be simulated. It was you, his girl. 

See? I mean, read? You, even when not by my side, make me act like a chick-flick romance. Bleh. 

But that’s not the point. The point is... God, how do I say it without breaking our hearts? 

Well, I don’t think there’s a politely way. Even though I'm a writer, I can't make it look softer.

I’m leaving you, babe. 

Or the girl he thought that was his. 

I’m so sorry, I really am. As much as I know that you won’t believe me, I beg you to do so: I love you. Deeply, desesperatly. Pure as the angel that you are, strong as the devil that I am, I love you. Always did, since the first time that you saw me. Or should I say stalked me on Jitters? Boy, that was creepy.

Barry Allen's first instinct was to laugh softly, as he always did when it was something about you. (Y/N), the love of his life, the incarnated affirmation of such a theory like love at first sight when he rolled his eyes at something Cisco spoke at Jitters - mission: coffee and brownie for Iris and Caitlin - and looked to the side, accidentally laying the green orbs on you, not many months ago. Unfortunately, any sign of happiness or lightness was braked in the deep of the Flash's throat. 

You were leaving.

(Y/N), abandoning him. 

Something happened. You know how that blue-haired metahuman, who Iris wrote about could control water molecules? I can control fire by myself. 

I have no idea how it happened, if anything exploded again or some anomalie inside my blood made BLOW. The thing is, if you look inside our room, you’ll notice that some places are burned. I tried to cover it as best as I could. I wish I could say that is what it is, just this small accident. 

But, of course it’s not. 

His heart was racing faster than his feet ever could, almost exploding. The air in his lungs was scarce, Barry could feel his throat closing as he gasped in opposition. 

It felt like having a panic attack, just as he had when he was a child after his mother's death. 

Once again, someone Barry loved was leaving. And he could not do anything about it. Not even now that he was Flash.

He was still that impotent eleven-years-old boy. 

Our postman, Mr. Charles, that old, gentle old man? He showed up today while I was home. As aways, he was really atencious, asking about me and you. When we’d get married. But when he extended his arm to give me the mail, I accidently burned his hand. 

Holy hell. He tried to process it, though only more questions came to distance the answers, just like his worry about you. You must be feeling so bad, so scared, so... Alone. And Mr. Charles, how was he? Was he still alive? Barry wanted to run. Either with his eyes to finish reading it or with his feet to go away, to you. Yet, there The Flash was paralyzed.

He is okay. Alive, at least. 

Reading it was, at least, a relief. Charles was a good man.  Unfortunately the good news was attached to a catastrophic thing, as always. After all, Barry Allen did not win, only The Flash did. 

He wondered why. Why (Y/N) would do this? He could have helped you, the whole Team Flash could. They dealt with similar things, even worse; they could train you until you found the power of self-control. They would have everything in hand.

The ugly answer came hard and fast, like a punch in the face.

Barry didn't tell you that he was The Flash. In his mind, for noble reasons. Protection. He loved you more than anything and wanted you to stay alive to love even more. The hero did not think that would have such brutal consequences. You screaming when you'd find out? Breaking something? Sleeping with a friend for a few nights? All this was understandable. Painful, but fleeting.

But that? That was fatal. 

I love you with every piece of my human being body. You’re the blood in my veins, the happiness in my smile. My sun to the Moon that I am. And that’s why I need to leave. 

With the powers of his persona, Barry no longer had to worry about some trivial things. His mind taking too long to understand something was one of those. But at that moment, his brain was in a chaotic loop, which would leave a wound open for a long time.

If he'd gotten home two minutes faster, maybe it would not have happened. If he had been honest with you from the beginning, he could be comforting you now. So many 'ifs' and only a reality.

If I hurt you, I wouldn’t survive. Neither would you. 

Barry's body was burning. What an irony. It was like he was about to vomit, hands shaking. The tears did not come, too frightened to see the outside world that called them so persistently. Was it his system trying to save himself by noticing that his heart was deteriorating, his senses were already leaving him?

We could just be sleeping and suddenly you'd get a burn. Or worse. I can't deal with that. I can't be okay with being around people while I am not able to control it. Me.

How strange. I always saw metahumans as people and not its. Clearly, because they are. No matter how bad they've become. Yet, right now all I feel is like an it.

I became a it.

I wonder if they felt like that. If I'll ever feel as powerful as some of them seem to.

I need to go, Barr. To far away, to find answer.

The forensic scientist knew he could faint anytime, he was giving up his own mind. 

Keep being everything this worlds needs, my nerd. 

Always yours, 

(Y/N). 

You were out there. Alone, scared. Of course, you could handle yourself. He was fully aware of that. Still, Allen knew how hard it was to deal with such powerful things. Especially when your contact time with the new part of yours was so horrendous.

And it was his fault. He felt it. 

All of it.

Barry ran away and checked the city countless times, that only took a few seconds. (Y/N) wasn't anywhere to be seen, she had probably even left the state. He went back to the apartment, grabbing the letter again. Rethinking and oscillating between his human and heroic speed to do so.

He'd lied to you for months, and still had the audacity to kiss you and promise things that he clearly could not keep up. Barry Allen let his bright star melt and trickle down his pale fingers, hurting both him and you in the process.

And (Y/N) was gone.

His mother was gone.

His father was gone.

Finally, his body forgot that foolish resistance, surrounding to its breakdown. The Scarlet Speedster, Barry fell to the ground in a thundering noise, the tear-stained letter crumpled in his right hand while he put his head between his legs and cried as hard as he could.

He was gone.