Chapter Text
The loud music that plays through the speakers ricochet in his pounding ears. The balmy temperature in the loitered room increases, sodding the grey shirt that tenaciously snugged against his chest. He sits alone at the bar, chugging down his fifth shot of the night.
His vision begins to blur, his words are slurring but he absentmindedly disregards the consequential effects that it will uphold over him later as he continuously takes shot after shot—hoping that it would somehow surcease the hollowness that plagued through his heavy heart.
Barry ganders around the populous room, attempting to detect the faces of his friends; Cisco and Ralph who initially persuaded him into joining them at the club. Much to his dismay, he refuted the offer being as though he wasn't too keen on going to clubs, but he finally concluded that he would rather be in a overcrowded room than to be secluded in that apartment for another moment.
Barry was the first to arrive, he found himself a seat at the bar and chugged down two quick shots of tequila that he'd ordered. That was nearly an hour ago.
Exhaling a perturbed breath, his eyes flicker downward to the gold watch that decorated his wrist and noticed that it was nearing two in the morning and his friends have yet to make an appearance. Barry contemplated on calling Cisco to see if they were heading towards the club. But he decided against it upon growing weary of waiting around and only desiring to be in the oasis of his abode, in bed and asleep.
He digs through the pockets of his pants and scruffles out a crisp twenty dollar bill, handing over to the bartender. Barry rose to his feet, sliding his arms through the jacket that previously draped on the back of his chair and beginning to turn around to leave when he suddenly feels a chilled liquid drenching his shirt.
He didn't acknowledge that someone had stumbled into him and spilled their drink until the person suddenly began to babble out their deepest apologies.
“Shit, I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and I,”
Barry felt his thick eyebrows furrow together in wonderment. He recognized the voice; the alluring and smoky tone of it. He peers up and meets the gaze of these soft, hickory rich eyes that seemed to glint amidst the darkened room.
“Iris?” He inquired, the retort is so faint that he isn't positive that she heard him.
She was mid-way through her sentence when she heard the familiar ringing of her name parting through his lips. She blinks, tugging her mauve coated lips into a smile, “Barr?” She ponders, referencing him to the nickname she'd given him back when they were in elementary school. Without warning, she steps forward and envelopes her short arms around his nape. “Oh my god, I almost didn't recognize you.” She chuckles softly, the sound of it wavers in his ears.
His arms intwine around her waist, resting carefully as her body splays flushed against his. Small tendrils of her hair tickle his nostrils as her plush cheek cradled comfortably against his. The enticing smell of her perfume wafted against his face, lingered in his nostrils, and drowned him into an intoxicated trance.
Iris pulls away, emanating a small chuckle as she steps back and ganders at his presence. “What's it been—four, five years?” She inquired, folding her arms akimbo under her chest. The action resulted into her breasts - which were currently visible through the thin, camisole like shirt that she wore, being lifted and granting him a better view. Barry blushes as he chides himself, disintegrating the libidinous thoughts that swathed around in his brain.
“Uh, yeah. Five years. How have you been?” Barry retorted as he clears his throat.
She'd began talking about her life post high school days and college days, informing him of the new paper she started, called the Central City Citizen after quitting her job at CCPN. Barry couldn't help but smile as he watches her giddily rave about her new job, he always recalled her deep admiration for journalism.
Barry didn't even know that she had finished talking, as his attention and eyes were adverted to the hiked up, black mini skirt that snugged against her petite waist. Her seemingly long, glowing legs were peeking from underneath, taunting him. Stop being a creep. He chastised himself yet again, penitent of his inability of maintaining focus.
“Barry?” He blinks, gazing up at her as her face marred a worried facial expression.
“Yeah?”
“I asked if you wanted me to pay for your dry cleaning since I kinda ruined your shirt.” She chortles, shifting her eyes at the large spot that still displayed onto his shirt.
“What—no, its fine.” Barry ripostes reassuringly, looking down at his chest before nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.“I kinda hated this shirt anyway.” He retorts which is somewhat true.
“No, Barr, you have to at least let me pay for your drink or something.”
“Okay, uh.” He pauses momentarily before reaching into his pockets and pulling out his keys. “How about you let me drive you home, then we'll call it even?”
Iris pushes the front door open and steps aside, allowing Barry to enter first as she closes the door behind them. He's ambling around, spectating at the spacious and luxurious abode that she had.“Damn.” He whistles glancing up at the chandelier that hung from the ceiling, its light shone an illuminating glint that casted throughout the entire room.
Barry found himself perched on one of the cushions on her couch. She stood athwart from him, sipping lightly on the bottled water she grasped in her hands.
“I still can't believe you have your own paper. I mean I remember you writing for the school newspaper in high school. You were always so dedicated.”
Iris simpers softly as she places the water bottle down. Nodding her head in agreement, she states, “Yeah. Me either. It wasn't easy, you know? But I knew that this is what I wanted and I stayed focus on accomplishing my goal. So, what about you? How've you been? Are you still dating that girl, what's her name again?”
“Becky,” Barry exasperatedly sighs.
“Right! Becky, how's that going? Last I heard you two were engaged right?” Iris ponders inquisitively, attempting to hide the pain that seethed in her voice. She remembers being told the news by her father and being utterly disturbed by the news. Iris didn't hate Becky per say, but she did have a great disdain for the young woman.
Becky didn't appreciate how close the two friends were and didn't fail to remind them any chance she received. Barry always informed Becky that he and Iris were only best friends but she refused to believe it. Becky had a very callous personality, which was the exact opposite of Barry's. Albeit she never expressed her concerns, it always perplexed her knowing that he dated someone so sardonic like Becky.
Barry clears his throat as he shifts his body. It was true in fact that he had planned on marrying Becky — they were high school sweethearts, well he wouldn't exactly use that term, but they dated throughout high school and for the first few years of college. He remembered the day perfectly, all the events that led up to the moment, the way her eyes clouded with heavy tears as she grogged out a yes and coaxed him with a heated kiss that left him windless.
Barry planned on having a future with Becky. Their relationship was far from perfect but they were helplessly in love. Or so he thought. As time drew near to their wedding, a rupture of afflictions suddenly ascended. Somewhere down the line is when Barry came to the gut wrenching realization that he had fallen out of love with the blond haired seductress.
He didn't tell her the primary reason why, but he knew that he couldn't continue their relationship based on a lie. So, much to his dismay, he ended it which only left a heartbroken Becky weeping helplessly and Barry stumbling around with the weight of guilt on his shoulders. He honestly did feel bad, because at one point he really did love her.
“Oh.” Iris says upon noticing the disheartened facial expressions that marred his slumped face. “Wow, Barr, I'm so sorry.” She informs him, moving from her seated position on the opposite couch to resting next to him. Iris reaches down and intertwines her small fingers around his calloused ones, with her thumb gently caressing against the skin on his knuckles, she turns to face him with her face painted in sympathy.
Barry gulps, feeling his heartbeat suddenly beginning to posthaste. She's talking, he thinks, well, he hears her murmuring words echoing in his ears but all he seemed to focus on was the outline of her succulent lips and how close her body was her his. Though he never told her, Barry always had a crush on Iris since they were ten years old. He never acted upon those feelings because he always thought that he wasn't fit for her caliber. She was the gorgeous cheerleader and he was the geeky sidekick.
But still, even through elementary school and even through his relationship with Becky those feelings were there. Deep down, Barry believes that Becky knew about his crush on Iris — which is why she would always scold her anytime the three of them hung out together.But Barry no longer harbored that guilt around with him anymore. The rupture with Becky ended three years ago.
Iris is still talking by the time Barry retracts himself from his musings. She smells incredible — her perfume, he believes is a citrus concoction of some sort. She's talking he sees her lips moving but he begins to suffer a slow loss of cognitive function. His mind goes muddled, it's hard for him to think when he's looking at her this close for the first time in years. She's still as beautiful as he remembered; from the smooth glow of her skin to her warm eyes, every inch, every crevice on her body deserved to be admired.
The silkness of her voice as she chides him for his lacking of attention is smooth and melodious. Her essence alone is overwhelming, and he begins to wonder about the purpose of oxygen when he could survive off of her scent alone. Her lips are distracting him. Barry glances over at Iris, and maybe it's the ardor that seems to shine in her eyes that revved his own adulation that was soon to display.
Iris' lingering words suddenly vanish somewhere along the outline of his soft lips. His hand is cradling her face within his grasp as his thumb gently caresses the flesh of her cheek. Slowly, incessantly, he presses his lips to Iris'. It's soft, timid and chaste but it still so much more than that, it's a wave of warmth that fills him up, spewing out from his heart. Their lips are united together — her plump, velvety lips enthralling against his slimmer, warm ones, bonding together.
He continued to press his lips more rougher onto Iris'. His insistent mouth was parting her quivering lips, sending wild tremors along her nerves, inflicting sensations she had never known she was capable of feeling. Then, she kissed him back, the kiss getting deeper, deepening the sensation that surged throughout her entire body.
Stifling a low groan, Iris pries her lips away from his, gasping intently as she struggles to find her breath. Barry, whose lips are now red and plumped swollen from their dewy kisses, opens his eyes and immediately began to stutter an apology.
“Iris, I-I'm so sorry. I don't know why I did that, uh, I can leave if you want me to.” Barry sputters, timidly shying his eyes away from hers and beginning to hurriedly rise to his feet — that is, until he feels a gentle tug of Iris' hands pulling him back down.