entrancelogs | love you in the way that you needed love.

[ he can't devout enough attention to the checkerboard hills when he's waiting on the tips of his toes for iris' reply. the word association game has its dips where things grow a little safe between them, but the anticipation has been built, and he's found that they've steered into competitive territory. he knows, because iris pulls this face that makes him laugh, and at that sound, she seems to only pull it even more. ]

[ standing in one spot, he toes the lush grass of the hills with his converse shoe — the pair iris had given him. it seems as though they never stain. despite having accidentally falling into the fountain (and the pool) several times over during the previous event, barry's found those shoes never once grow dusty and dirty. he'd been worried about venturing out here with them on, but considering the damp earth hasn't once clung to them, he thinks them to be safe. ]

[ and clean. he looks down and notices the go win and smiles to himself. ]

[ pursing his lips together, he runs his tongue along his teeth as he considers his answer. there's a hum low in his throat before he thinks to answer. ]

Honeypot.

[ oh, that's easy: ]

Sticky.

[ iris loved, loved, loved honey when they were children, possibly to an unhealthy degree. she's not sure when she transferred that devotion to brownies. oftentimes when they'd run out of honey and joe would seek out the culprit, and iris' sticky fingers would give her away each and every time. these days she'll eat it with her granola, every now and then. toss in some fruits and nuts and mmm! you've got yourself a delicious breakfast of champions.

presently, iris is adding some cinnamon to her coffee as steps out the door, arching her eyebrows at him in challenge.

en garde, allen. ]

[ peering up at the sky, he scrunches his face up. squinting, he regards it, waiting for the clouds to take the form of letters so he can think of a word to associate with that. it'd be nicer if she was out here with him, but he'd set himself the task of scoping it out properly, taking his time to understand the layout of these unique hills, venture as far as he can for as long as he can manage. and then, when he thinks them to be okay, perhaps interesting enough for her, he'll bring her out here for a wander. ]

[ but it's easy. the answer is in the palm of his hand, and in the history that stretches and tethers them together. iris west has always had sticky fingers: for honey, for stories, for doing what's right. ]

[ she just doesn't need to know anything beyond bringing up a childhood memory. ]

Fingers.

[ iris is wearing knee-high boots, deciding earlier in the morning that she'd pair them up with a summery floral dress. he'll hear the clack-clack-clack of every step as she rounds the corner and reaches the staircase. up to the second floor she goes. ]

Painting!

[ speaking of their childhood, iris was no master fingerpainter. she wasn't terrible! but she's always been better at writing, where creativity is concerned. still, iris or barry could come home with the ugliest drawing known to mankind, and joe west would still put it up on the fridge. iris never experienced the kind of trauma barry did. at such a young age, no less. she mourned her mother when she believed her to be dead, of course, but joe gave her a full childhood.

(she misses him.) ]

[ with a smile, he shakes his head. his answer is an easy and quick one. ]

Messy.

[ barry's never had a talent for painting. he found the art to be too confronting in school. asked to draw and paint simple things, such as his family, had been difficult. no one understood what it was like to stare down at that piece of paper and refuse to grab a pencil or a paintbrush while the rest of the children in the class were gleefully dipping fingers and toes into the paints lined up on the table. ]

[ once, he had a knack for drawing. but barry no longer tries to do even a stick figure. ]

[ several things come to mind.

she could associate all of them with the word messy, but iris tends to go with the most innocuous choice. ]

Spill.

[ she's reached the third floor now, btw. we know everyone is dying to know about iris' trajectory to her room. spending some time catching up on the network is part of her routine, one she has established to keep some sense of normalcy in an otherwise chaotic world. ]

Se … cret.

[ the moment he begins to say it, he winces. though iris seems to have healed from the time where he'd kept the most important piece of himself hidden from her, he still winces whenever he thinks it over. ]

[ when he was younger, he swore he would be her friend, tell her everything he could, from his secrets to his thoughts to when he was in pain. though the latter never quite happened, as it required barry to know when he was in pain and admit it to himself, the former had been something he continued to tell her, confessing and admitting and embarrassing himself ten times over to his best friend. ]

[ until he'd been struck by lightning. ]

[ he kicks a stone, and continues to walk slowly along the grass of the hills. ]

[ oh.

iris hadn't anticipated that answer.

she has moved on. she forgave barry, and she doesn't hold a grudge once she decides to let go of her anger. but it does remind her of how long she was kept in the dark, when she'd thought she was his best friend and they shared everything. it reminds her of the small voice inside of her that tries to tell her he may be keeping something from her now. she quiets that voice whenever it decides to pipe up. she and barry have no secrets. not anymore.

it doesn't make it any easier to come up with a word now.

and she may not have to, if the billows of purple smoke behind her are any indication. ]

[ she's never gone this long without a response. iris sometimes takes her time to mull it over, as though she wants to pick a word that may trigger an explosion of commentary from him. but her silence speaks more loudly than one single word ever has between them. ]

[ he knows he shouldn't have said that. he doesn't know what she's read into it. is there some part of her still angry with him for that secret? (he wouldn't blame her, not at all.) has she discerned he hasn't forgiven himself for it? barry's conflicted over the past, wanting to run from it, to forgive himself, to fold it up and let it simply poof out of existence. but barry understands the lesson he learned from keeping his secret from her, and it's one he carries with him each and every day. ]

[ barry stops walking through the hills and looks to his phone, and squints when he brings it closer toward him. she's in the corridor, but there's something odd — not dark matter like, but similar — crawling up behind her. ]

Run.

[ his heart soars itself into his throat. it's purple and thick, cloud-like like mark mardon's own tumbleweeds of weather. it's the first thought he has, and the last one before he feels the crackle of electricity ramp itself up to envelope him: ]

Iris, run!

[ barry's end of the feed is merely golden static, flickers of the grounds blurred into one smear of colour. ]

[ iris senses something chilly in the air before he even says anything.

she turns in place, her eyes drawn toward the stinging sensation, and it's then she hears barry's warning. his voice is the only thing to reach her, along with his panic. the urgency. her eyes widen and her fingers unfurl, phone falling to the floor with a clatter. iris needs no further encouragement: barry tells her to run, and she does. there's no time to ask questions, no time to be afraid, and definitely no time to pick up her phone. she leaves it where it is, and bolts.

iris simply does not manage to get very far. the purple cloud spreads too fast, and unlike barry, she cannot outrun it.

no sooner it reaches her, iris closes her eyes.

legs giving out, the world is swallowed whole, and all she sees is fire. ]

[ barry had made himself a promise: he'd never be slow again. ]

[ when wells had stolen a slip of his speed, he had vowed to work faster, harder, and to become quicker and more powerful than he'd ever been before. he swore it to himself, to mom, to dad, to cisco and caitlin, to wells and iris and joe. he had sworn it over and over, and had vowed, to the speed force, he'd never be tardy again. ]

[ barry runs as fast as he can, as hard as his feet will allow him. he's on the far side of the grounds, but he can feel the air rush right by him, even slap against his face. it's nothing new to run in his normal clothes than it is to be dressed as the flash, but there's a slight difference. he can feel the corners of his shirt begin to singe, albeit comically slowly, and those shoes iris had gotten him would've been ash by now. ]

[ the doors of the mansion slam open and close after a great big exhale of wind being pushed by his body. he cares very little for how loud it is, if it reverberates throughout the mansion. barry zips up the stairs so fast he thinks he phases through the walls, and when he gets to her floor — zips right toward iris and the approaching purple cloud. ]

[ or the dispersing little storm. barry can't tell. there's no time to investigate whether or not he'd been late for a very important date. ]

[ barry folds underneath her, arm around her waist and catching her, his other hand holding her phone he hadn't realised he'd scooped from the floor. he doesn't waste time in trying to settle iris into his arms. taking off again, he zips through the mansion and into his room, sealing it shut with all that he can — wanting the walls to be thick, the plaster to be impenetrable, the gap beneath the door to be filled. ]

[ then he stops. iris is a weight against him that's often too comfortable, but he isn't so sure he should feel relieved with having caught her in the knick of time. ]

Hey, Iris. [ fingers curling into the fabric of her dress, his other brushes against her cheek and hair. he waits for her to open her eyes or shift. his voice remains soft, but there's a slight edge of panic that makes it sharp and as hot as his kinetic energy. ] Iris?

[ he remembers, then, that he hadn't saved her coffee. ]

[ he can't reach her. or she can't reach him?

words and touch are all a distant thing, almost as though there's a thick layer of glass between barry and iris. her name as he calls to her is barely an echo. she doesn't stir at the sound, much less open her eyes. wherever she is now, he can't follow her, and it's strange to be the one who is lost to an inconceivable force. it's her voice that's meant to bring him home, each and every time. what happens if that's swallowed whole by the fire, too?

the last time she was this close to an open flame, she was maybe six.

iris can't recall it, not even when joe broke down and confessed his darkest secret.

maybe she blocked the memory from her mind when she was still young enough to understand it would break her heart if she remembered. it'll slowly come back to her now, in wisps. in fragments. francine, passed out on the couch with her arm hanging at her side, a wrecked sleeping beauty in her own right. iris standing by the stove, her palm too close to the shooting sparks. and joe, stepping into his own home, a badge on his chest and a ghost on his face.

if barry were to reach for iris again, he'd find she's unreasonably warm to the touch.

she's too close to the flames. ]

[ he takes her to his plain white room, because it's easier than anything else. it begins to change just a little, a red wall behind his bed, a dreamcatcher hanging on the ceiling. barry doesn't think much about it, only wanting his room to be as normal as it can be, as if the warmth of it, the flash shade of red accenting the room, and the softness of the sheets of his bed, will somehow shake iris awake. ]

[ barry does everything he can think of to try and wake her up. he vibrates his hand while holding hers, knowing it's enough to pull anyone from a deep sleep. he threatens her with brownies, intending to eat them all and rather slowly in front of her again. he thinks it's unkind, but he tells her joe and wally are here, if only to have her wake up and punch him hard for lying to her. ]

[ he doesn't know how he does it, but when he moves his hand away from hers too quickly, he's surprised by a jolt of electricity, so thin and windy and hot, tethering them for a second before it disappears. ]

[ it still doesn't wake her up. ]

[ sitting as close to the bed as he can manage, he grips her hand tightly. it's warm, and he finds it concerning, but he doesn't think too much of it within that moment. it's second on his list of things to worry about, the first witnessing iris open her eyes again. ]

[ he thinks to vibrate it again, hoping it'll somehow reach her, but he doesn't. iris hadn't needed any superpower to find him in the speed force, and he doesn't think he does, either. this isn't how they work. ]

I need you, Iris. [ with both hands wrapping tightly around hers, he shifts from the chair he's pulled toward the bed to sit on the very edge of it. he tries to calm himself down, that quick heartbeat of his racing harder and faster than it normally does. his throat almost closes up, and feels weighted and hot in itself. barry does his best not to panic over what this means; they've never dealt with something like this before, and it terrifies him to think she's lost to him. ]

Please just … [ he slots his fingers into the spaces of hers, and shifts on the bed so he can rest her hand on his lap. he's almost hovering over her, and where he'd otherwise enjoy being a tower, he doesn't now. not when she isn't awake to joke with him. ] I need you to wake up. I can't do this without you. I can't lose you, too.

[ despite his best attempts to recreate that rope of electricity that'd seen the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he can't quite recreate it. ]

[ iris had been concerned about barry's room.

it lacks warmth and color, but perhaps it isn't too surprising if one considers the last moments barry allen lived prior to wonderland. he is so buoyant and affectionate and supportive—sometimes it's hard to remember that the brightest smiles hide the deepest wounds. his room is nothing if not a reminder of that. she maintains hope that these four walls will one day convey the vibrancy and energy that she forever associates with him as he begins to heal.

all the eobards and zooms in the world could not take that goodness from him.

if iris weren't unconscious at the moment, she'd find this scene more than a little familiar. over a year ago, she'd been holding barry's hand in much the same way. she'd experienced that same jolt of electricity once her fingers curled around his. she'd said those very same words to him. i need you.

he hadn't woken up, then. not for all of the jokes and threats and heartfelt pleas in the world. iris learned to live without him for nine months, eventually forcing herself to confront the possibility he might never wake up.

then he did, and everything made sense again.

she wants things to make sense again. she wants his voice to reach her so that she can wake up, and reassure him there isn't anything to fear—she isn't going anywhere. she's always been where she belongs, right by his side. but her eyelids are heavy, and so is this curse, and so she does not waken. ]

[ after barry calls wells and gets confirmation from henry that the curse is, in fact, temporary and has fairytale origins, barry continues to freak out. the definition of true love in this context can be anything, platonic and familial or even romantic, but barry lets it weigh heavily upon him. it has fairytale origins, and he understands his fairytales and their life lessons well. thankfully, no one can see him — not wells, not henry, and not iris. he paces in his room, almost burning the wooden floor with how quickly he pivots on his feet. ]

All I have to do is kiss you. Which I've done before. Like … three times. Although you don't know that.

[ barry smacks his palm to his forehead before spreading his fingers to press hard against his running mind. it doesn't slow down. ]

[ he eventually sits on the edge of his bed, picking up her hand to fiddle between his fingers. he tries to spark her again, but it doesn't work. he knows it won't work, but he does it again. true love's kiss has a heavy, emotional weight to it, one that barry wants to run far away from. the future holds the confirmation of that for him — iris is his destiny, as much as the flash has always been intricately tied to who he is on this earth. ]

[ believing in the impossible, barry's also a believer in true love. it's a romantic notion mom used to speak of him about, and maybe it'd been the way she smiled and her voice grew wistful that made him believe in it, too, but it's a concept he grips onto with all his might. something in this world has to be true and good, and he's always known love to be that. ]

[ iris and joe were the ones to teach him that, after all. ]

[ he brushes his fingers against her temple, thumb sweeping over her cheek. quietly, ] This has to work. [ and for it's impossible, barry has to believe in it. strip it of its own meanings and sentiments and what it's going to mean for the two of them — true love's a heavy coat to wear, and barry's not so sure if he's ready to have that press over them when they've only just tentatively begun. ]

[ but he doesn't want to risk iris never waking up again. the clock may strike midnight and his fairy godmother may have promised she'll wake, but barry can't risk it. ]

[ he leans forward and kisses the corner of her mouth. ]

[ at first, it would seem like nothing is happening, and nothing is going to happen.

iris remains all but lifeless on the bed, yanked away from their world and plucked into the fiery depths that exist only in dreams. what she'll remember most, beyond the flames that threatened to lick at her skin, is the fact she was not alone. many others were trapped with her, incapable of waking.

she sleeps until she doesn't.

it comes like an onslaught, then: eyes blow wide open, hands furl tightly, and lips tug in a sharp and audible breath. iris sits up with an abruptness that almost leaves her head spinning. she still feels warm all over, and not in the good way. no, this isn't the warmth she receives when she's tucked into the quilt grandma esther knitted for her, nor the cozy heat of the hot chocolate she and barry share without fail every christmas eve. this was fire, terrifying and real. this was—

this was a stove, and a couch, and an open flame. she remembers now. ]

Barry?

[ her voice sounds thick, even to her own ears, confusion and a desire to regroup warring with each other. ] What happened?

[ barry moves back, but doesn't slip off the bed. his hands cradling hers only tighten for a moment, a squeeze of relief and to inform her he's there, and then slacken just a little. his thumb sweeps over her knuckles. ]

[ relief swells inside of his chest. he wonders if this is how iris had felt when she saw him after he'd woken up — he hadn't given the star labs team much of a chance to inform either west of him being awake, and if they did call them, they hadn't reached iris by the time he had — and figures she must have. it's the best feeling in the world, being reconnected with reality again. her hands are warm in his, and his own heart stops beating a thousand miles a second, but he still feels something in his chest bloom uncomfortably. ]

Hey. [ it's quiet, but his smile isn't. his brows raise as he tries to tiptoe along a joke, instead of wanting to focus on how his shoulders sag and the tension that's been building up over the last few hours has slipped away immediately. the word feels heavy, and the rest that follow are as well; his voice is a touch croaky, ] Fairytales. You were ... Sleeping Beauty for a while there.

[ iris is usually able to laugh off her injuries, even when they're serious. the second she opened her eyes at the hospital all those months ago, she made a joke about pizza. this time isn't so different, though her gaze softens at the sight of his smile. it must be what it feels like to look right at the sun, except it never blinds her. ]

Figures it wouldn't be Jasmine. [ aladdin is where it's at ok. ] Remind me to file a complaint.

[ the warmth of his hand tethers her back to this moment. it grounds her and slowly, iris attempts to bring herself to a seated position. a small groan follows her efforts, but she's successful. her hand lifts to curve around her own neck. quieter, she adds: ]

It felt so real.

[ his brows furrow for a moment, lost. he'd spoken to wells, and he'd spoken to henry, and they're the two people he would trust to know what they're talking about when it comes to weird sicknesses and fairytale curses. ]

[ henry hadn't told him anything about what it'd be like. was iris meant to feel well-rested? overtired? grieving for those lost hours? would she feel any different at all? in hindsight, he should've asked those questions, but he'd been more wrapped up in possibly not being able to bring her back. ]

[ he wonders if that's how iris had felt when he'd been trapped in the speed force. ]

[ he leans forward, brows still furrowed, and the corner of his lips curve upward when he asks gently, ] What did? The — dreams?

Yeah. Yeah, there was—

[ her voice trails off as she swallows, attempting to fight off something thick and almost pinched in her throat. a hand curves around her neck afterward, almost in afterthought. she blinks, eyes stinging as though she's just fought her way through flames and smoke. ]

There was this room. It was on fire. There was fire everywhere.

[ and she wasn't alone, not that she recognized anyone near her. ]

[ barry's brows furrow, and he looks down for a brief moment before he lifts his head again. his hand squeezes hers; the speed force had begun as a dream, and he's still convinced a part of it must've been it. everything that he had hoped for, aside from it not being real enough to take a tangible form in his true reality, the speed force had been the best sleep he's ever had. ]

[ he doesn't know what to make of iris' answer, and he does kick himself for not having the sense to ask henry about everything that can and cannot happen when someone's cursed to sleep by a fairytale malfunction in wonderland. ]

[ he thinks of how joe had comforted him when he'd been younger, seeing blurs of red and gold in his living room. mom had comforted him some with the dark, but joe's words are what he remembers now. deep, soothing voice, reminding barry none of it was real — it couldn't be, if he was awake and with joe west, the safest place anyone could ever hope to be. ]

It was just a dream. You're okay now.

I'm okay.

[ iris repeats it with certainty, levelness. it is meant to reassure both herself and barry. it's going to take a lot more than a sleeping curse to put iris west down for good. she's been kidnapped. she's jumped out of windows. she's ended up in the hospital more than once. it never sticks, not physically and not emotionally.

her fingers curl tighter around his. his hand is warm, but it's a good kind of warmth. it brings her back.

it's been said so often: iris's voice will always bring barry home. but it works both ways. ]

I'm so sorry if I worried you. [ wonderland's given them enough grief. barry, especially. the last thing he needs is a sleeping beauty on his hands. ]

[ he laughs; it isn't mirthful or mirthless, but somewhere in between. it's more of releasing the tension that's build within him over the last several hours, and what she apologises for takes him off guard. ] What? [ he sounds incredulous, and looks it. ]

Iris … [ he shakes his head, lips curved into an amusing and disbelieving smile. ] It's not like you asked for this. You shouldn't be apologising for this.

[ he glances down at their hands, and lets his thumb sweep over the back of hers. ] I'm sorry I didn't get to you faster. [ at least this time it wasn't a shard of glass, but barry doesn't say it. ]

[ she wants to make a joke.

she usually would, where barry's heroics are concerned, and being a second too slow where she is concerned, at times. but she can't bring herself to do it. the words get stuck on the roof of her mouth, and all that remains is a helpless and bittersweet smile.

he's remembering the same moment that she is. they're just remembering it different. ]

I should've been paying attention. If Wonderland's teaching us anything, it's that we can't let our guard down.

[ as benign as it may seem, at times. ]

[ he shakes his head. ] You don't have eyes in the back of your head. There's no way anyone could've outrun that fog.

[ there's perhaps one person in all of wonderland who can. barry allen's spent his entire life running, from that living room, from the dark, from bullies and time itself. he's spent a good portion of his life perfecting the speed and power of his feet hitting the ground, how to run in converse, with a backpack heavy against his spine, with someone in his arms. he knows the moment he says it that it's not completely true, but he also suspects, though he pushes the thought away as soon as it begins to knock against his mind, that he's already been consumed in a fog for over a decade. ]

All that matters is that you're awake. You've got all your fingers [ — he looks down, as though he needs to count them, thumb sweeping over them almost clumsily — ] and your toes. And you're fine. You know your name, right? It's just a Wonderland thing. It never makes sense here. It never did to Alice.

[ the clumsy movement of his hand tugs at something within her chest. iris wraps her fingers around barry's more tightly, and she smiles then. iris may be in wonderland, but she is thankfully no alice. ] I know I'm Iris, and you're Barry. [ that's where everything begins and everything ends. the world could crumble and the fire could consume, and she would still know this. ] I've known you for fifteen years, and I'm the word association reigning champion.

[ shhh, it's true in her heart. ]

[ he smiles, feeling some of the tension seep away from him. he shakes his head. ] In your dreams, Iris.

[ he doesn't let go of her hand, glancing down at it for a moment. ] I let you win that one time. You can't go back into a cursed sleep until one of us has been titled Wonderland's Next Top Word Association … Model? [ he pulls a face then laughs. ]

You hear? You have to make a deal with me right here, with … Wonderland as my witness.

You did not.

[ she is so offended by the implications. iris west won fair and square, thank you very much. (maybe.)

the vehemence with which she would argue this matter isn't present, however. her smile is tired and sincere, bolstered by the laughter he gives her. now there's a contest she thinks she could win fair and square. tyra is her girl. ]

You want me to pinky swear it? [ because she will, barry. she's lifting up the fifth digit of her hand in offer. ]

[ he doesn't feel particularly focused enough to grasp that tangent and take it for a flash-like spin. he could argue and declare he's the ultimate word association champion thus far, but doesn't. it's not necessarily important to him right now. ]

[ barry lifts his hand, curling his fingers into his palm save for his pinky. ] I'd ask for a blood oath, but I've always been nervous about that stuff. [ besides, there's power to be found in the pinky promise. it's why it's lasted for so long, hasn't it? everyone pinky promises because the act's so simple but means so much. ]

[ he wraps his pinky around hers gently. ] No cursed sleeps until someone's titled champion.

I've got a better idea. How about no cursed sleep at all?

[ her pinky lingers around his, tightening it's hold as she makes her promise. it's a silly thing, but iris feels like she can convey the strength of her promise if she holds on tight enough. his hand is warm, but it is not scorching, and so it is a comfort. barry is comfort, no matter what has (and has not) happened between them. ]

[ he doesn't let go of her finger. ]

I mean … If you're not interested in Prince Charming … [ his lips curve upward as he shrugs his shoulder, trying to be playful. the tension still remains tightly wound in him, but barry has to let it go. it's the one thing he can let go. ]

It sounds like a good plan. No cursed sleeps. Or else you're the loser for word association. [ he puffs out his chest, grinning. ] I've even got my Oscar-worthy speech ready.

Most of the princes you find in fairytales aren't all that much to write home about.

[ look at cinderella. why the fuck did that dude need a shoe size to recognize the girl of his dreams?

chump.

her mouth parts in indignation, iris smacking barry's chest lightly with an open palm. ] You're so full of yourself. We're both neck and neck in this thing and you know it. [ if anything, barry's cockiness will make her victory taste that much sweeter. ]

[ he arches his brow. ] Is that so?

[ pursing his lips, he nods his head, but it isn't in any acceptance of what she's said. barry knows he's always been highly competitive whenever iris is around — he's self-aware enough to realise, in hindsight, he'd felt some urge to be louder than he naturally is to earn her attention. he'd taken the wrong turn when he'd tried to get her attention before; he'd been competitive with eddie when he shouldn't have been, instead needing to focus his energy on being there with iris. ]

Hungry.

... I could go for some pizza.

[ turns out, a sleeping curse that knocks you out for a considerable amount of time will waken your appetite and multiply it by ten. ignore the way her stomach rumbles, barry. it's sort of embarrassing. but her statement stands: she could go for some pizza. ]

[ barry moves as though he's ready to launch to his feet, but his hand remains in hers and his butt stays on the bed. it's almost as though she's told him christmas has come early with how he brightens up immediately. ]

[ and speaks quickly, as barry allen often does. ]

What do you feel like? Have you tried the Wonderland garlic bread? It melts in your mouth.

[ a fond grin splits across her face. ]

I have not had the pleasure of trying out Wonderland's garlic bread.

[ barry remains on the bed, and iris suspects he is doing so on her behalf. so she'll be the one to rise first, tugging him up by the fingers. ] But right now, all I want to do is try Wonderland garlic bread with my best friend.

[ and not think about sleeping for a very, very long time. ]

That's pretty sad, Iris West.

[ incredibly sad — considering barry allen's been consuming wonderland's food like there's no tomorrow. does he look a little shorter? taller? he can already hear wells' voice in his head telling him to stop. ]

[ with his plan to originally flash out with his hands empty and return with them full beginning to teeter on the edge of not quite being implemented, her hand remaining in his is the final shove it needs to send it catapulting to wherever it is barry allen's plans crash and burn. it's not going to happen. perhaps it's for the best that he lingers. ]

You can have all the pizza you want, and you haven't even put in your order? [ he shakes his head, standing up, but he doesn't start moving. his quick recovery time — his quick everything — hadn't made him feel dizzy when he shot right up in bed after his coma, but that hadn't been a sleeping curse so much as someone being struck and changed by a bolt of lightning. he doesn't want to tip iris over. if anything, he's handling her with the kind of gentle speed that belongs to barry allen and not the flash. ]

love you in the way that you needed love.

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