neighbors | barry allen//the flash

twenty one | spaghetti

The next fews days, Barry didn't ever run into Clara, and he was beginning to wonder if she was purposely avoiding him. He didn't think dinner had really been that bad. Okay, actually the food part of dinner had been absolutely horrific, but they seemed to have a nice time together; she has smiled a lot. And the ice cream was a nice way to forget about the terrible sushi. So why had her face been full of regret when they said goodbye that night? 

The end of that night was stuck in the back of his mind, nagging at him every time he had a dull moment or didn't fill his brain with his own busy thoughts. Her absence didn't make it any better. It was like the recency effect, because that was the last time he saw her, that's what was burned into his memory, that's what haunted him the most. Her laugh when he burnt his pizza, the peaceful look on her face as she dozed off quietly while watching the scary movie, the way she fussed over him when he visited her while she was sick, all of those memories were dim in comparison to the uncertainty that covered her face before she retreated into her apartment.

Through his day, he racked his brain for the moment things went downhill, for the exact thing that had caused her face to fall that way. Yet, despite his desperate attempt, he couldn't think of anything. Maybe she just didn't like him, and that was that. 

Barry could tell Joe was watching him a little closer today, he probably noticed that Barry wasn't quite himself. But Joe didn't pry, and Barry appreciated that. He didn't really want to explain the first date with his neighbor might have been the last, and he had no idea why. Maybe Barry really was pushing things too fast, maybe he was getting his hopes too high. Maybe Clara just needed some space.

Barry went through his daily routine in a daze, trudging through his routine almost subconsciously without really any thought. When he got back home, he was starving and exhausted. Just as he pulled a bag of chips out of his pantry, he heard a knock at his door.

"Do you wanna come over for some spaghetti?" Clara asked. "I forgot how much the recipe made and I don't know if I can eat spaghetti three meals a day for the next two weeks, so I could really use some help."

"Wow, I am always down for helping when it involves eating food," Barry grinned as genuinely as he could manage. Her chirpy mood had surprised him. He pushed down any doubts he previously had about the last time they were together and decided to just go with it. Maybe he was paranoid and totally imagined Clara's face that night, because she certainly seemed fine now. "When do I start?" 

"Right now!" Clara beamed, grabbing his hand and dragging him into her apartment. She pulled two plates down from her cabinet, then filled the entire surface of the plate with noodles. She topped it off with plenty red sauce and four meatballs, then set the plate for him on the breakfast bar. He walked around to sit in the stool and watched as she gave herself a significantly smaller portion.

"I think you're making me do a lot more work that you," Barry teased, a grin on his face. 

"I think you can handle it," Clara smirked, walking over and sitting herself on the stool beside him. Barry twirled his fork and slurped up a large portion of spaghetti, Clara watching hesitantly. He saw the corner of her mouth turn up as he let out a satisfied sigh.

"I think this is the best spaghetti I've ever tasted," Barry approved, and Clara finally took a bite of hers. "Where did you learn to make this?" 

"It was my mom's recipe," Clara looked down quickly, her voice quiet, her hair falling down and creating a curtain between them.

"Clara, I'm really sorry, I didn't-" Barry started apologizing profusely. 

"Barry, it's not your fault," Clara cut him off, letting out a nervous laugh, flipping her hair back so he could see her face again. She sucked in a breath, then bit her lip before speaking again. "I just, well, um, I just remembered it's her birthday." A single tear started sliding down her cheek as she stared blankly into the kitchen.