How I Feel - An Olivarry Story

To Ache & To Ache For

Barry woke up to the sight of Oliver watching him sleep.

"Good morning." Oliver says with a small smile. "Sleep well?"

"I don't know. You tell me." Barry replies quietly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Barry takes a moment to yawn before he answers. "Well... Let's see here. You are in the same position and on the same spot as you were last night before we both fell asleep, and you know... I wake up to your eyes right on me. So is it wrong for me to assume that you know the answer already? " Barry explains as the hint of weariness withdraws from his voice.

Oliver snickers. Amused, he plays along. "Barry Allen. CSI. My hero."

"That's me."

"Still. Just because I like to watch you sleep doesn't mean I actually know how your sleep was. I'm genuinely curious."

"It was good." Barry stutters. Did he just say he likes to watch me sleep? Is he even aware that those words just slipped right out of his mouth? Was I hearing that right? I mean of course I did. My hearing is fine. But why does he like to watch me sleep? He wants to carry on with the charade. But he's scared. He doesn't want to mess this up. Especially when they are both in vulnerable positions that are arguably intimate. But another reasoning had weighed in, balancing the scale. If Oliver slips that he likes to watch me sleep, what is the harm in telling him why I slept good tonight? The power of hesitation fails, giving in. "Good because you were here with me."

"You were there for me. It's only right I'm there for you."

After a small pause and a brief moment to think, and in hopes to bring up this whole I like to watch you sleep back into play, Barry teasingly asks, "You like to watch me sleep Ollie?"

Oliver licks his lips then sighs. "Of course I do Barry. Why would I say something that's not true?"

Barry looks away, breaking the stare between the two men. I messed up.

"Hey." Oliver begins again as he lays one of his hands onto one of Barry's. Whenever he sensed sadness or someone in desperate need of reassurance, he would always start with that one word. Hey. It was nothing but soft and showed the purity in his heart. He genuinely cares about the people he loves. If anyone cared, it was Oliver Queen.

Once Barry redirects his attention and resumes looking deep into Oliver's eyes, Oliver continues. "All jokes aside, I truly do. Not to sound like a creep or anything, but seeing you in peace makes me happy Barry. You run around just about all the time. And sometimes you forget that you need to slow down. Waking up to you sleeping and knowing that you don't have to worry about who or what's coming is nice to see. And I ache for the day you find someone who gets to wake up to that everyday."

This is it. I need to tell him. Before it's too late, I need to tell him how I feel. Just as Barry opens his mouth ready to respond, the phone rings.

Oliver and Barry roll their eyes in sync as Oliver snatches his phone off the nightstand. "It's Felicity," He announces. "I'll be back." He lifts himself off the bed and accepts the call. As he exits the room and closes the door, he mutters the words, "Good morning honey."

A single tear rolls down Barry's cheek. With him being the only person left in the room, he says outloud what he was thinking. "You're the one I want to slow down with Ollie. You're the one I want to wake up to everyday. You're the one I want. You and your love is what I ache for. If only you could see that. If only you didn't love someone else. If only you loved me. If only I could tell you. But I can't. And I probably never will."