WIP Week | Day 3 - Favorite WIP
Ship: Barry & Iris (referenced only)
Show: The Flash
“Take as long as you need” – his mother had said.
“Grab what’s most important to you. We can get the rest later.”
But Barry stood in the center of the living room in his apartment and wondered what exactly constituted as important.
He assumed clothes weren’t included in the necessities, since they didn’t hold sentimental value from what he could tell after sifting through them. They were likely in large supply at home too. He couldn’t have brought them all to school. And he had to have come home during summer and winter vacation, even if he had been in school for six years straight.
I mean – right?
He couldn’t be so paranoid that he might run into Iris that he just never went home.
Barry grabbed his toiletries because he figured those were probably a little less likely to be fresh and ready for him at home – probably. It all depended on how prepared his parents were for the rare opportunity their son would return home for a visit after he’d left for college.
If it was rare, of course. Which is seemed to be, he thoughts. Maybe. He didn’t know.
Miraculously, he found a clean ziplock bag, tossed the toiletries inside, and set it by the door. He continued to peruse the room for anything of value, but at least on a surface level, he came up empty. He opened and closed cupboard and drawers, but everything was plain, ordinary. Nothing stood out. Another trip to the bathroom and then the bedroom didn’t change that. There were a few cool science-y things on a table near the window in his bedroom, but he felt no overwhelming desire to take them with him, so he left them behind as well.
He checked the fridge and freezer on his way and was only mildly surprised to find them both completely empty.
Phone in his pocket, key with his mother, and bag of toiletries in his hand, Barry gave the tiny pigsty of a place one more look-over, turned off the lights, locked the door, and headed back down the many stories at normal speed, resigned to his fate.
It had been his idea, after all, to return home for the weekend. According to his mother, he had completed all his required classes the week before. Which was honestly a relief, since he didn’t know if he could draw on knowledge he’d never used before – or hadn’t in a while – unless it consisted of common sense facts, forensic science, or Flash business.
That was another subject he wanted to know more about. Was he still The Flash? Was he such a slob in Brooklyn, New York, because he was running back and forth between Central City and the Big Apple every time there was a crime? Or was he the Flash for this city? That would be a change.
Something inside him suspected not though. How could the Flash be such a slob when he could literally clean any room in less than two seconds – one, if he was enthusiastic enough.
A thought gnawed at him that he couldn’t get rid of.
Was it possible that in this life he had never gotten hit by lightning, never gotten super speed, never become the Flash? And if that possibility was true, was it inevitable he’d lose his powers entirely?