Too Late

Tony shoved Barry against the lockers and sneered at him before walking off with a girl. Barry slid down the lockers and held his now bruised shoulder. He rolled his hurt shoulder and winced. He slowly stood back up and rested his forehead against his locker.

..

Barry watched the clock tick by in his AP Science class, his eyes dull and his fingers mindlessly tapping against his desk. He had already finished the work assigned. He didn't even bother to pretend to do it slower so he wouldn't be seen as such a "nerd", they'd bully him anyway.

He closed his eyes and was brought back to when he was in Grade 8 and had been chased into an alleyway after the graduation party, which he had been reluctant to go to in the first place. Barry jumped in his seat when the bell rang, snapping him out of his memory.

Barry clenched his fists and grabbed his bag off the chair. He strode out of the room and went right to his locker. Instead of taking the rest of his things, he shoved his bag into it. He slipped into the crowd of students exiting the school and ran up the stairs to the roof.

When he opened the door to the roof, a strong breeze hit him. He took a deep breath and continued to the side of the building. His hair whipped across his face. If he jumped now, they'd say he just did it for attention. So, he crouched down and laid on the roof, closing his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun was setting, making the sky a beautiful shade of red.

Barry looked over the side of the school and smiled softly. He stood up and put one foot on the edge of the short brick wall that lined the whole roof. He put the other up and spread his arms out, the wind blew against him strongly, as if it were trying to get him to not jump.

"Hey! What- what are you doing!?" A familiar voice called out.

He moved his head to the side and then slowly turned his whole body to face the voice. "Tony?.." His voice came out quieter than he wanted it to.

"Get off the edge, Allen! I'm-I'm warning you!" Tony said, his clenched fists shaking.

Barry tilted his head to the side. "I thought you wanted me dead, no?"

Tony visibly paled. "It was just a joke! That's what friends do, right? J-joke!" Tony said, rather unconvincingly.

"Why are you really trying to stop me? You don't want Iris to hate you for my death? You don't want a police officer to be watching you?" Barry questioned, voice dull. "Because I'm sure they won't hate you for too long if they even hate you at all."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "They love you, Barry, they really do... So get down... You don't want anyone to hurt just like you are, right?"

Barry snapped his head to look into Tony's eyes. "The reason I hurt... is because of people like you. People like you who hurt people, make fun of them until it makes them snap, pick on them until they feel like they don't have a reason to live anymore." A tear slipped out from Barry's eye.

"I never meant for it to go this far, Barry! I promise! I'll leave you alone, please. Come down. I won't even tell anyone about this. You can go home to Iris and Joe, they're probably worried sick that you haven't come home yet." Tony pleaded.

Barry's eyes softened. "Tell... Tell Iris and Joe that I love them, and I'm sorry. Tell Joe to talk to Henry as well," He laughed bitterly. "Henry's my dad, Tony... The "murderer"..."

Tony stepped forward. "Barry! Stop it!"

"I'm sorry, Tony. Maybe now you'll finally get the girl." Barry whispered sadly before he stepped off of the edge.

"BARRY!" Tony yelled and ran to the edge. He looked over at the limp body of the boy he had bullied for years.

He fumbled for his phone and called 911.

..

Tony sat stiffly in one of the few seats in the back, listening to Joe's speech about Barry. Iris was sobbing in one of the front seats. She was supposed to say something about Barry, but she couldn't. She just kept crying.

Henry Allen had been allowed to come to the funeral. He was beside Iris, dressed in a black tuxedo, but still with handcuffs on.

Joe sat back down and brought a handkerchief out for Iris. He put a hand to his mouth and stared at the fine wooden casket that held his foster son's lifeless body.

If only Tony had intervened quicker. 

But he was always too late.