ALL THE KING'S MEN | BARRY ALLEN

08. HOMESICK

❛ chapter eight! ❜

eight | homesick—dua lipa ft. chris martin

       Sleepovers. I remember the very first time I stayed at a friend's place for a sleepover. I was about six years old and had never spent the night in another house that wasn't mine. I was pretty pumped by the idea of staying late with my friend, however, as hours passed by and night danced around us, that excitement tuned into desperation. I wanted to go home, I didn't care if I had to walk ten blocks to get there, I wanted to go back and sleep in my own bed, where I knew I'd be safe. Eventually my father picked me up in the middle of the night. That's exactly how I'm feeling, I want to go home, even if that means not completing the task I've been assigned, but there's no home to go back to anymore and this time nobody will come and pick me up. I'm stuck here.

       I did my best not to break down in front of them and I could say I succeeded until the very last moment; my voice broke several times and tears certainly rolled down my face, but I managed to keep it together while a war of emotions took place withing my chest. I was blunt and told them everything that happened: my earth's obliteration, how I used to have a partner, how he died in my arms and all the doppelganger thing involving Kara Danvers, Oliver Queen, Lyla Michaels-even the lady from the flower shop, the guy from the bakery-and Barry Allen. Everything.

       I didn't even dare to look at them in the eyes the whole time. When I felt myself cracking and starting to fall apart from the inside I fled the room rather abruptly. I just needed to get out of the speed lab while my legs still worked properly and my sobs where quiet. So I came here, the pipeline. I must look ridiculous, curled up in a corner, almost rocking back and forth as I cry my eyes out. My younger self—the pillar of strength I used to be—would pick me apart, criticizing me as melodramatic and weak, but that younger me doesn't know how it feels to lose it all in just a heartbeat. My phone buzzes a few metres across from me, where it landed when I had a small outburst of anger with myself and threw it away—I don't think small is the right word though.

       I pull my knees close to my chest and my hands cover my face. I'm crying so hard that my head throbs and a couple of strangled sobs echo throughout the pipeline while Zoom's words bang inside my head, telling me that I failed to save everyone. Those words overlap until all I hear is some guttural noise, one that reminds me of his mocking laugh. He was right, now everyone's dead because I couldn't protect them from him. I wasn't fast enough. I don't try to wipe my tears anymore, since more will stain my face immediately. There's a moment in which I realize that sooner or later I will have to face the team again, I can't hide from them all the time and just the thought of it makes me panic. What are they going to think about me? That I'm weak? They're going to ask more question, they totally will. I shake my head and try not to think about it.