Olivarry Oneshots

THERE'S HOPE FOR HIM

Everything is a hopeless abyss, and here is Oliver Queen, floating in it. It has been two years, six months, three weeks, six days, ten hours, five minutes, and thirty-one seconds since Barry Allen disappeared off the face of the earth.

He vanished after a mission and never returned. They searched for months, held out hope as long as they could, until they had to give up, move on. Barry was gone, untraceable. They couldn't find him, so they had to do the one thing Oliver had made them promise not to do: declare Barry dead.

When they had, Oliver had simply crossed his arms, shutting his eyes in disbelief before storming out of STAR labs. He had been through so much hell in his life already, and he finally found the one thing—the someone—that was his light: Barry.

But as always, things had been too good to be true. His light had been ripped away from him. It was heart wrenching, and he wanted to just spiral out of control, lose himself to alcohol or drugs or whatever.

He didn't, though, because that's not what Barry would want. Barry would want him to lead, to use his disappearance as a motivator to keep going, keep running.

That's what he did.

After one week of grieving, he pulls himself up off of his couch in his and Barry's shared apartment and dresses. He returns to work that day, updating himself on the current projects. After he had finished that and signed off on everything, he calls a meeting with the board of directors and make a motion to develop a way to find the people that can't be found.

If he couldn't have Barry back, he could at least make sure that someone else got their missing person back.

As the Arrow, he combines both Team Flash and his own team, so they could keep both cities safe. He wasn't about to let Central City—Barry's home—descend into chaos without the Flash.

When asked about the Flash's disappearance, they give an excuse. After a while, they asked Jay Garrick to do a run-by with Wally to keep the citizens convinced the Flash was still out there.

He settles into a routine of this: work, save the cities, eat, train, etc.

Everything follows that schedule, except for the one day a month he went to Barry's grave. That was a day meant for mourning, the only time he allows himself to be sad.

There was a still that faint glimmer of hope that remains every time he falls asleep that when he woke up, Barry will be there next to him, curled into his side.

Each morning that hope is shattered.

He didn't really allow himself to move on, the teams know that. They know he still has all of Barry's things, that he sleeps on Barry's side of the bed, and smells his clothes and cologne.

Felicity and Diggle pester him to try dating again, try to move on.

He refuses firmly each time. Barry is his one, his soulmate, his other half. There is no moving on.

Every time someone says to him in a huff about how he was coping: "that's not what Barry would want," he simply stares at them, pursing his lips.

What did they know?

Yes, Barry would want him to be happy, but he also understood the impact that he'd had on Oliver.

It wasn't until Iris and Joe actually sat him down one night, which was surprising because they both have been in similar states since Barry  vanished.

"Oliver," Joe said. "You have to let go, we all do."

Oliver stared at him.

"This isn't healthy, we're all holding on too tight, too long. It's suffocating us and we're not living," Iris added. "We need to try."