Struck Twice ♡ Barry Allen/The Flash

Suspicion

P.S. Ian Somerhalder plays Ian in this book.

Behind me was Barry running after me. I was already out the door by the time he caught up with me. A felt a small breeze. S.T.A.R Labs gave me a sweater with their logo. But it was thin.

As I started to walk to Jitters, my now new favorite coffee hang out, Barry got a grip of my shoulder.

"Slow down!" He panted. I rolled my eyes, begging he doesn't slow me down.

"I need to see my friends and family." I exclaim.

"Did you hear about your sister? You walked out to late to hear." Barry asked. 

I immediately panicked and dropped the annoyed expression. "What happened?! Is she okay?!" I question.

"She's fine. After she found out you were in a coma, she started to sign up for a Detective at the station. And when your brothers heard, they started working at Jitters." He explains.

I feel a ton a weight lifted off my shoulders. "I thought they were dead or hurt or worse, you bastard." I mutter. He laughs a little with me.

"I'll walk with you." He offers.

I give him a weak smile before we start off.

"We were struck by lightning, and we don't give a damn nor do a damn about it. What happened to our inner nerd?" Barry questions as we stare off into the path ahead.

"Ah, ah. You mean your inner nerd." I correct. He scoffs a bit as I smile to myself.

"What do you usually do when your stressed?" Barry asks.

I furrowed my brows, in confusion. "Why?"

"I don't know. I just want to let loose for a bit. Get drinks, or whatever you do to let loose." It looked like he was lying. But then again, I barely know him.

"It depends. For breakups I get really drunk till I do something I regret. Or..." I trail off. Barry looks confused as to why I stopped.

"What?" He asks.

"I draw."

So surprised by the answer, Barry stopped in his tracks. "You can draw?"

"Yup. Others say I'm good, but I'm not so sure." I mumble. I stare down at my feet in embarrassment.

"Can I see?" He catches up to me again.

"Err...uhhh...." I blush.

"Come on!" He pleads like a child. Barry even added a little foot stomp.

"Your a child." I tease.

"Maybe I am. But I will see your drawings one day."

"Just keep telling yourself that." I pat his back.

Suddenly his grin falls. He becomes serious and stern. "I need to talk to you about something."

Great.

"Anything." I respond, now looking at him.

"About my parents." My stomach dropped. His father killed his mom when Barry was 11. At least that's what the newspaper article said. I don't know what to believe, honestly.

"Shoot away." I mumble.

"Please tell me you don't believe anything the paper said. I know my father didn't kill my mom." He begs, seeing his eyes sadden.

"I don't know what to believe." I reply. "Do you have proof?"

"I was there."

I stopped walking. Gulping down hard, I managed to choke out, "I'm so sorry. What did you see? Did you tell anyone? Do you know who?" I ask to fast for him to think about.