90210 . young justice one-shots

Kid Flash x Reader

{Unedited}

Requested by: PuppyFashionista

Keys;

Y/N = Your Name

* * *

When you had first realized Wally had died, an immediate hole was made in your gut. You couldn't move and your hands felt frozen.

"Where's Wally?" You asked, unaware of the sad looks that were aimed at you.

Barry was hesitant. "He's- (Y/N)-"

"Don't."

"He wanted- he loves-"

"Just don't," you begged, a hand coming up to hide half your face, sheltering it from the tears. "Please."

The first day was unbearable. Everyone in the league and squad called you, all unaware of you whereabouts other than Dick.

"I miss him, Dick," you sobbed into the phone, unable to control your shaking hands, clenching your eyes shut to keep yourself from looking at your bare apartment.

"I do too."

The first week wasn't any better. Wally's parents called as well as your own. You weren't sure if there was any emotion in your voice when you spoke to them. And then Artemis finally called. She didn't want to know where you were or what you were doing. She wanted to know why you weren't at the funeral.

"Because, Artemis," you said. "There's no such thing as a funeral if there isn't a body to put in the ground."

A month passed and Barry finally showed up at your apartment. He didn't look good but it wasn't like you were doing any better. He didn't say anything when you let him into your apartment and made him a coffee.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he finally said after staring down at the cup for five minutes. "It's all my fault."

You stared down at your own drink, knowing you weren't going to touch it. "It's not your fault. I'm done looking for someone to blame," you said. Like you thought, you dumped the full cup into the sink after Barry left. You only cried when you realized you used Wally's favorite mug.

Six months and you went to his grave. Flowerless, you sat opposite the stone, his name clearly engraved.

"I know what you're thinking - where have a been?" You hated the way you talked as if he was right in front of you. "And to be honest I don't know. The apartment isn't-" You stopped, swallowing and looking at your hands. You picked a piece of grass and started ripping it. "- it's not home anymore. I'm thinking of moving back in with parents. But I can't stand the way they look at me - like it was just yesterday that you-" You caught yourself again. There was no longer a piece of grass in your hand.

Nine months was when the nightmares again. A child's nightmare consists of monsters under the bed or in the closet, a dark hidden figure awaiting them in the darkest corner of their mind. Yours were memories of Wally coming back from his classes, or going midnight shopping at the 24/7 store across the street, only to come back and crash out on the couch after attempting to binge your favorite show. You called them nightmares because when you woke up they were no longer real.