The nights before Barry's college sendoff were both exhausting and perfect. Every evening began with a short conversation, a pot of coffee and plenty of smiling. Then, they would end up on the floor, side by side, staring at the ceiling. They let sentences flow from their mouths that didn't always make much sense. Sometimes they laughed, sometimes they cried, but every night, Barry's thoughts were clouded by the hopeless wish for something more.

Holding her hand was the only thing he ever permitted himself to do. It was the only thing he could think of to express how much he truly loved her without losing her.

It was unbearable how often he held back the intense urge to kiss her whenever they were near each other. He held back urges time and time again to hold her in both arms and kiss her, just wanting her to know that he loved her, no matter what she felt in response.

The thing that haunted him most was how she held his hand as well. His hand was her anchor. Her grip was the perfect combination of firm and gentle, never letting go, but always comfortable. She would smooth his skin with her thumb and sometimes bring his hand to her lips. She never realized the reaction he had. Sinking into his own desire, pitying himself and feeling like a complete idiot.

2am was always where they'd end up. Barry liked to convince Iris that it was their right, as high school graduates, to completely screw up their sleep schedule. She would laugh at him, and then give in because she didn't want to leave him. She would get as close to him as she could, resting one arm over his stomach and her head on his chest, closing her eyes and waiting for the moment to end, but secretly hoping that it wouldn't.

The last night before he left was accompanied by a heavy silence that hadn't been there before. Iris came back from work to see Barry sitting on the couch, and she didn't say a word when she saw him. She looked at him with glossy eyes and waited for him to say something to her, but nothing came out. He didn't have to gesture anything for her to make her way towards him with iron feet and sinking shoulders.

Her feet carried her quietly and slowly to where he was. She sat down next to him, scooting close and lifting his left arm to put it around her shoulders. She nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck and squeezed her eyes shut above her frown. For the longest time, they stayed like that. They didn't move, or speak or cry, or laugh. The only thing they could hear was the sound of breathing and beating hearts.

Every hour brought about a new thought about what would happen next. When he left, who would take his place? Who would she meet to keep her company and fill the empty hole that he left behind? Who would hold her after he leaves? Who would she stay up late talking to? Who would have the courage that he lacked to kiss her and tell her the way she makes him feel? He wished he could tell her before leaving that he loves her, and doesn't know how to stop, but his words were all caught in his throat and his mind was set on saying nothing at all.

She kissed the skin of his neck without thinking and he sank deeper into the couch. He touched her hair with his right hand and pressed quivering lips to the top of her forehead.

Around three in the morning, he felt her tears against his skin, and she gasped for breath between her soft sobs. He couldn't cry. He wanted to, but he was numb more than anything else. The thought of being away from her terrified him, but he couldn't make himself cry for it. Maybe it was because he knew that letting himself feel more pain than he already did would keep him from getting on the plane the next morning.

His eyes were tired, and he shut them before tilting his head closer to her. His arms held her tighter and when her crying was quieter than before, he opened his mouth to say it. To say the words he'd wanted to say so badly since he met her. He tried to get them out, but the hesitation lasted too long. She fell asleep. Peaceful, in his arms.

I love you, Iris West.

The thoughts still came, as they did so often, but the words were regretfully held back. Soon after, he gave up on staying awake, and drifted off as well, hoping he might share Iris' dream.

When he wakes up, she's still in his arms, no longer sleeping, but placid, unmoved. She blinks a few times before he moves his head and she notices he's woken up too. She looks up at him when he does, and reaches up to poke his nose.

"Today's the day, isn't it?" She sits up and grabs his right arm with both of her hands. "You're going off to college." He allows himself half a smile for her sake and then raises his eyebrows and gives her an exaggerated nod. She looked like she wanted to say something else for a moment, but it was like she didn't know what. The silence from the previous night returns and they lock eyes, then she crosses her arms in front of her and rises to her feet. "Come on. Get up. You're going to go get dressed, and so am I, then we're meeting up in the kitchen for coffee, you got it?"

He nods again, but it's smaller this time, and what follows is stillness.

"Barr" she stares down at him. "Did you hear me?"

"Yes. Yeah I heard you." The pace of his words is slow and sharp. "Sorry… still waking up." He rubs his eyes, and then before he can do it himself, Iris grabs his hands and pulls him to his feet.

"Come on, slow poke." she says. He watches her walk away and his vision goes blurry when she reaches the foot of the stair case. "What are you waiting for?"

His feet finally start moving toward her, but every step feels more forced than the next. "I'm sorry!" he says, sarcastically. "I told you I'm still waking up, mother." Iris turns around and sticks her tongue out at him. He tries to return her playful corrosiveness, but he can't help laughing through it.

After they've both dressed themselves, Joe fixes a pot of coffee, and the three of them pour their share in styrofoam cups.

"You ready, Barry?" says Joe, smiling, and grabbing his jacket.

"As I'll ever be." Barry responds, and moments later they're in the car.

Events move at an unrealistically swift pace. The trunk of the car is already loaded with Barry's stuff, so the second they finish pouring their coffee, they head out to the car. Iris calls shotgun, and Barry is forced to sit in the back, but it doesn't make much of a difference. She might as well have sat next to him because the entire drive, she's turned around to see him and talk to him. By the time they reach the airport, Barry has lost track of the conversation and they're preparing to put him on the plane. His memory of getting there is filled with holes and blank spaces.

Iris and Joe stand in front of him now. Tears are threatening to roll down Iris' red cheeks once again, and Joe has pressed his lips together to stop them from shaking.

"Guys…" Barry doesn't know what else to say. He has half a smile on his face and he licks his lips, looking back and forth between the two of them and dropping his bags beside him on the floor.

"I'm so proud of you, Barry." Joe says, bringing his hand to smooth out his face as soon as he gets out the sentence. "You have no idea how proud I am."

Barry opens his arms and invites Joe into a hug that lasts a few short moments and ends with two firm pats on his back. When they part, his eyes immediately shift to Iris, who can't even bring herself to look at him. She has her hands folded in front of her, twiddling her thumbs and watching them make circles around each other. Barry looks back to Joe, and he gives him a sad smile. Then Barry walks to Iris and slides his hands beneath her arms at the waist, moving them around her and connecting them behind her back. His mouth goes to her ear and he whispers to her.

"I'll come back." he says softly. "And I'll be calling you almost every night, so stop being sad because you're not losing me, okay?" He feels her start to shake. "You could never lose me." Almost as soon as he says those last words her arms swing around his neck and she squeezes him until he can barely breathe. They embrace for what feels like an hour, and she does her best not to cry any more than she already has.

"Every week." Her words are muffled by his shirt, but she pulls away, leaving her hands behind his neck. "I know that college is demanding and you'll be busy, but forgetting to call me isn't an option okay." She frowns at him until he nods and then her expression softens. "And I'll be visiting." she adds, holding back tears. "You better make time for me when I do, okay?"

His hand slide up her back and make their way to comb through her hair and gently hold her head.

"I will always make time for you, Iris West." he says. He allows those words to be the last thing she hears him say before he goes through security. He looks back at her one more time before boarding the plane, then she disappears from his sight, and he misses her instantly. An ache unlikely to leave.