Chapter Text
Don’t misunderstand Barry, he loved his career. Being a forensic scientist was his biggest dream, but sometimes his stomach was loudly screaming for food and professor Singh wouldn’t shut up until the damn clock actually marked 2:30pm and hell Barry was hungry and ready to have lunch with his friends.
When it was only two minutes before the reglementary time, Singh let the class out and Barry rushed to the cafeteria where Cisco and Caitlin waited for him to have lunch together as usual.
“Guys!” He said, waving excitedly, taking a seat in front of them.
Cisco had been using his phone and Caitlin had been picking at her food. They looked up when Barry arrived and smiled kindly.
“Finally,” Cisco said, getting his meal from his messengers bag. It was part of their routine to wait for each other before starting to actually have lunch.
“How was lab?” Caitlin asked.
Barry sighed, rummaging through his bag looking for his food.
“Intense. Yours?”
“Good,” Caitlin answered, just as Cisco replied with “Boring.”
Barry huffed and examined the tuna sandwich he’d prepared that morning before properly waking up. The tuna was barely chopped. When he stuck his finger onto the tuna to taste it, it was utterly flavorless. Half of the tuna wasn’t even between the bread anymore. It was a mess.
His cooking abilities still needed a lot of improvement. Cisco liked to tease him about being the leading role of a reality show called Gourmet Channel in which all of his kitchen misfortunes were recorded for posterity.
Barry suddenly remembered something they’d planned to do on Friday with Cynthia and Ronnie: going to the theater. It wasn’t much more expensive than going to the movie theater and they wanted to vary the kind of things they did outside college.
“How are plans going for Friday?”
“Cisco heard—”
“I saw in the official Instagram page,” Cisco corrected, lifting a finger.
“—that on Wednesdays there’s a 3x1 promotion,” Caitlin continued.
“Great!” Barry chimed. “But we’re 5.”
Cisco nodded.
“Yeah, you need to get a date.”
Barry shook his head, laughing it off. He really couldn’t ignore the fact that he was the only one from his friends that was still single, right?
He knew he could get a date. He only had to figure out who to ask.
*
The next couple of days went by as usual: classes, quizzes, chill briefly at lunchtime, and repeat.
And, of course, long nights of pouring over textbooks and notes.
Cisco was at Barry’s rented apartment studying Calculus, a class they registered for together, because they both needed it to graduate. They were on the living room floor with notebooks and textbooks scattered around them. After two hours straight of glaring at numbers and text, the symbols on the page were starting to float around.
Barry pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, soaking in the darkness for a second.
He needed to think about something else besides related rates and other applications of the derivative.
Barry shook himself. “Hey, so I was thinking,” he said, reaching his phone on the couch behind him.
Cisco scoffed. “That’s never a good sign.” He flipped a page of his book and looked up. “What’s up?”
Barry shifted. “About the theater date, I was thinking who I could invite and I was thinking I could ask Leo.”
Cisco’s face scrunched in confusion. “Who the hell is that?”
Barry sighed. “Look, one second.” He opened his phone and pulled up Instagram. The seconds ticked by as he waited for the blank screen to load. He didn’t look up from his phone the whole time.
Still staring down at his phone, Barry heard Cisco get up and sit behind him, just as Leo’s profile loaded.
“Wait,” Cisco said, leaning closer to the iPhone screen, then taking it from Barry’s hand to scroll down Leo’s posts. “Snart? Leo Snart? Dude, he’s older than us and so not cool.”
“He’s cool!” Barry protested, snatching his phone back from Cisco. “I’ve seen him around with his sister and his friends and we talked once and he was nice.”
Cisco shook his head in disapproval. “I can’t follow anything he says. He’s so random, and, I don’t know, weird. I mean the other day with the Cookie Monster joke, what the hell?”
“It was funny!” Barry paused. He didn’t remember anything more than forced scattered laughter. “Kinda. Okay, it wasn’t, but that’s not the point.”
The point was the date. And he was going to consider all aspects of his potential plus one, including sense of humor and whether his friends liked him or not. If Cisco wasn’t convinced, Caitlin most likely wasn’t going to be either.
“So you wouldn’t want him to join us in the date?” Barry asked, reaching for his phone back.
Cisco dropped Barry’s phone in his hand. “I mean, you can invite him if he’s who you really want to go with, but maybe you can find someone better.”
Barry sighed. He put the phone aside and rested his head back on the couch.
“Sure. Like Oliver, right?”
“Yes!” Cisco exclaimed, raising his eyebrows.
Barry shrugged. “I don’t really see the charm in him. Plus ,” he added, with determination, “we’re not even sure he’s into guys.”
Cisco cleared his throat and started counting off with his fingers.
“First: man, have you seen those eyes? I would go gay for those eyes alone! Second: it’s evident he is, for God’s sake. He’s always checking out dudes when he has lunch with us. Bonus points: being with him by itself upgrades our social status and he can drive us back home because he has a car!”
Barry snickered at the last part of Cisco’s argument. He had a point—the quest for a friend who owned a car was neverending.
“He’s cute and convenient, alright, but I don’t think he’s great enough to make him my date, that’s all.”
Cisco leaned back supporting in the heels of his hands. “I wonder where your taste is, seriously. I’m concerned.”
Barry rolled his eyes. “I’m the one concerned—”
Cisco raised his eyebrows.
Barry scoffed. “—about derivatives, c’mon, you let me know when you understand the chain rule,” he said, returning one of the books to his lap to keep on studying.
*
It was Tuesday. Tuesday, as in the deadline Barry had to find a date, and he still had no idea what to do. He’d resigned to go by himself and be the fifth wheel, but he also couldn’t seem to find someone who he had a chance with and that he and friends liked.
He walked into the cafeteria to have lunch with Cait and Cisco. For his surprise, they were sitting with Oliver and Laurel.
“Hey, guys,” Barry greeted, mostly directing his words to the pair of friends he didn’t see as often as the other two.
Laurel grinned widely. “Hey! I haven’t seen you in the whole month!” She exclaimed, going over the table to give him a quick hug.
“Yeah, Chem and Calc’ve got me studying a lot lately.”
Oliver smiled and nodded with understanding in his features.
“Same with Econ. I got the most difficult professor in the whole faculty.”
Cisco protested with his mouth full until he swallowed and was able to speak. “You haven’t been busy with chem,” he said, jabbing a fork at Barry, “you’ve just been obsessed with Fortnite lately,” he accused.
“True,” Caitlin said.
Their conversation branched out from there—they complained about their workload and exchanged various methods they used to waste time and avoid doing work. Procrastinating makes you feel like a real college student.
Eventually, Laurel and Caitlin left for classes, but none of the boys had to go for another hour and a half. They had been discussing the Champions League and when they were left alone, they only went deeper in the topic—although Caitlin and Laurel were making a fair amount of interventions in the conversation considering they preferred tennis over soccer.
Cisco was, despite what everyone believed, a sports enthusiast. He’d started the debate that now seemed endless about whether or not the Bayern Munich had fairly won the iconic 1996 november game against the Juventus.
“It was not!” Barry defended. “Jancker scored that goal cleanly and you’re just sad they eliminated the Juven.”
“I’m not sad!” Cisco argued. “I’m angry because my favorite team ever got their game stolen!”
“Okay, Cisco,” Oliver said calmly, “we must need to rewatch that together. What Barry is saying is right, both goals were legitimate and the red card was also fair.”
Cisco dropped his hands onto the table. “Now you’re just taking his side because he told you your brownie turned out decently. Unbelievable.”
“It was very decent, though,” Barry said. “Where did you get the recipe from?”
“Thea showed me how she prepares it a few years ago. I made some changes to the cream and I like it better that way.”
“Now we’re talking desserts, awesome,” Cisco muttered.
Barry glanced at Cisco, but then turned back to Oliver.
“You melted dark chocolate for it, right?” He asked Oliver.
“Yeah! How did you know it?”
Barry grinned. “My mom uses the same trick when she bakes. I thought I recognized that flavor from somewhere.”
Oliver smiled back. His phone chimed and he immediately checked it. Barry took the chance of distraction to exchange looks with Cisco. Maybe Oliver wasn’t in fact as bad as he thought he was.
“I can’t believe this guy,” Oliver said. His tone was deep and actually serious.
“What’s up?” Cisco asked.
“This guy—he’s from my micro econ class. The one I mentioned is super hard. He asked me for help in a graphic we have to turn in the next class and I wondered, y’know, why not, right?”
Cisco and Barry were listening closely and nodding in silence.
Oliver scoffed. “Now he’s texting me not only asking me to do the graphic for him, but he’s also implying since I’ll ‘save us time’ we can still meet to fuck.”
Oliver sighed heavily. His eyebrows were frowned. “I’m sorry, guys. I probably overreacted.”
“No, not at all,” Barry said. “He’s a dick, actually. You should tell him to go to hell.”
“And,” Cisco added, “that he’s not your type. That’ll hurt him.”
Oliver smirked shortly.
“Right. Which he’s not, in fact. He’s this douchebag kind of guy and I’m into the cute-looking ones, y’know?”
Holy shit, Oliver is into guys!!!! Barry felt his eyes widening, but tried to behave normally.
“Yeah,” Cisco intervened, saving Barry. “We got a friend that’s the exact opposite. All about the jocks. Right, Barry?”
Barry felt a flush starting to creep up his cheeks. Yeah, sometimes he hated Cisco.
“Mmhm,” he said, feeling his throat dry. He lifted his glass and drank the rest of his water, giving himself an excuse to think for a moment.
Oliver was not bad at all: now with the confirmation of him liking guys (and no other than the cute-looking type!), the fact that they both supported the Bayern Munich (not a determinant aspect, but definitely influential), the brownie baking, him being a student good enough to be asked for help—AND don’t forget about the car! Oliver drove a car!
“Oliver, you know,” Barry mentioned, forcing his rigid posture to be casual as possible, “we’re going out tomorrow. Cisco, Cait and I on a triple date. Sort of. The thing is I’m missing my date and I wonder if you’d like to be it.”
Cisco almost choked on air.
Oliver blinked in surprise, but he leaned back and smiled so slightly Barry almost missed it. “Sounds good to me. Where are you going?”
Barry wanted to face-palm. “I can’t believe I didn’t mention it. The theater, there’s like a festival of 15-minutes-long plays and it’s really fun. We went last season and it was lit.”
“Count me in,” Oliver said. Barry internally high-fived himself. “I’ll pick you up at 7?”
“Make it at 6, the first play starts at 7.”
Cisco looked at them both and smiled.
“It’s a date, then,” Barry said.
“It’s a date,” Oliver repeated.
Barry looked down to hide his grin. He wouldn’t be the fifth wheel, and he’d found an amazing plus one to prevent that from happening.
Cisco tapped his hands on the table. “Well, I’ve got class so I’ll leave you to it.”
Barry nodded and waved at his friend. Oliver did the same and then his eyes rested on Barry’s.
Barry’s heart skipped a beat and he quickly looked down at his uneaten sandwich. The silence between them was tangible and Barry shifted uncomfortably. Maybe he should find a reason to get up and follow Cisco out of the cafeteria. Would Oliver believe him if he said he had class as well?
“Hey,” Oliver said, turning to face Barry, “there’s those new sculptures the art department put up around campus, if you wanted to finish lunch somewhere else.”
Barry felt the tension slip out of his shoulders. “Yeah, that sounds—that sounds great.”
*
Barry finished his Gourmet Channel sandwich on a stone bench near a giant cement bird with mosaic feathers. Oliver was sitting next to him, sitting quietly and glancing between Barry and the giant bird.
Barry finished the last bite of his sandwich and, hey, he was still a little hungry, so he licked the last bits off of his fingertips.
He heard Oliver laughing softly and looked over.
“What?” Barry demanded.
Oliver waved him off. “No, it’s just cute.”
Barry choked. “I’m sorry, what?” No one on Earth looked cute while doing that. Not even Tom Cavanagh.
Oliver smiled. “No, I’m serious. Most people can’t enjoy their lunch enough to even consider licking their fingers afterward.”
Barry exhaled, pressing his hands to his jeans and staring straight ahead.
Oliver nudged Barry. “Oh, come on, why did you ask me out if you’re gonna melt every time I say something to you?”
Barry jumped up. “Hey, let’s see the rest of those sculptures.”
Oliver reached out and took one of Barry’s hands and pulled him back down.
“What’s up?”Barry said, sitting stiffly and confused.
Oliver looked nervous. Why would he be all jittery?
Barry scratched at the back of his hand, trying to shake away the rush of anxiety that was suddenly crashing over him.
Oliver opened his mouth, took a deep breath, then closed it again. “I—I don’t know. Nothing’s up, I guess.”
Could this be about what Barry thought it was? It couldn’t. It totally made no sense. Oliver didn’t think about Barry, despite having lunch with his friends and him from time to time.
“Let’s go see the sculptures, then. Right?” Barry said.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Absolutely. The sculptures.” Oliver sighed and slouched back in his seat.
*
Barry took nearly two hours to find an outfit he felt okay with. First, he tried his business formal suit, tie and everything, but he looked like an accountant so he quickly changed. Then, he tried an embarrassing Hawaiian shirt and khakis. What was wrong with him? He was going to to theater, not a beach party.
After trying another three more outfits, he finally felt satisfied with his clothing when he put on his favorite navy blue shirt and buttoned it almost to the top. To ease its formality, he wore jeans and his classic black converse. Casual, but nice.
He was a little anxious and it was only 5:30. He ate some cereal. 5:40. He scrolled through Instagram. 5:45. He brushed his teeth again. 5:50. He just sat and waited for Oliver to call him and let him know he was there. 6:00. He would lose his mind if Oliver didn’t arrive in the following 5 minutes.
Barry’s phone rang. It was Oliver. 6:03.
He accepted the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, Barry, I think I’m outside, in the front?”
Barry grinned. “Are you by a giant dancing balloon guy?”
He heard Oliver exhale through the phone. “Like the kind they have at car dealerships?”
“Yes! Great, I’m on my way.”
He hung up the phone. His heart was loud in his chest, but it was okay. The second that he and Oliver were together, he would finally attack his crazy anticipation and anxiety and he would be able to freaking relax.
He looked one last time in the mirror to make sure that everything was in place. He grabbed his jacket from the coat hanger by the door and walked out his apartment.
Oliver’s Optra arrived at Barry’s feet the instant he’d stepped in the street. He took a deep breath and opened the passenger-side door.
The first thing that crossed his mind was how exquisite Oliver’s cologne was.
“Hey,” Barry said, suddenly breathless.
“Hi,” Oliver replied. He offered a candid smile and Barry’s heart stopped at the sight. “You’re looking handsome, ready to get to it?”
Barry blinked. “Yeah, yes, absolutely.”
Maybe he was still a little anxious, but he could taste in the air that it was going to be a really good and enjoyable night.
*
They arrived at the mall where the theater was located and met with the other two couples: Cisco and Cynthia and Caitlin and Ronnie. The group was adorable and balanced. Although the line for the tickets was long, they chatted casually and the time flew by.
After a lot of discussion, debate, and several actors enthusiastically promoting their plays during the line, they finally managed to decide what 6 plays they’d watch out of the 30 being put on that season.
The first play was a comedy. It had themes of politics and bureaucracy, but in a really witty way. It was mostly uneventful, besides the fact that Barry sometimes felt Oliver staring at him and most probably his smile. At least that’s what he guessed, since he did the exact same thing when he estimated Oliver wouldn’t notice it.
The following one, though, was it eventful.
It was Ronnie’s suggestion. Caitlin didn’t protest and the rest just went along with it. The title of the play was In the Dark , and it ended up being self explanatory.
Barry didn’t hesitate to take Oliver’s hand when a jet black hall was presented in front of them. Apparently, the whole play would be like that.
Staff from the theater made them walk inside the room blindly, only with a rope on their left as guide.
Barry was walking behind Ronnie, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and holding Oliver’s tightly with the other. To be honest, he was already scared and the play hadn’t even started.
Before the play could start, everyone from the line had to enter the room. Staff warned that cellphones or any other dispositives that generated some sort of illumination would cause the cancelling of the play immediately.
The chattering of the in-visible audience quieted down and a male voice spoke over: the play had officially started.
“Where am I? What happened?” his scared voice murmured over and over again.
Something metallic was hit out of nowhere and Barry jumped at the loud noise.
He interlaced his fingers with Oliver and took a deep breath.
Some moments passed with him toying with Oliver’s fingers, feeling confident in the dark about doing so. The male voice continued to speak over. The character was starting to remember the last thing he did before waking up there, wherever there was. He was realizing he’d been kidnapped or something. Barry, with every passing minute, paid less and less attention to the play and more to Oliver’s closeness and essence.
The kidnapped guy puked and the splashing sound crashed right in Barry’s ears, popping his bubble of tranquility. He’d even felt his pants and ankles get wet.
He took the opportunity to give a step back, leaning against Oliver. He noticed how hesitant Oliver was. Oliver kept shifting around, as if he didn’t know where to place his hands or if he should do anything else than just standing there behind Barry.
Barry thought he would help him and placed Oliver’s arms around his waist. Oliver’s muscles relaxed —Barry hadn’t noticed how tense they were—and thinking about the day before, when they’d been so close to—to something , but of course he had to panic the moment he noticed Oliver’s intentions with pulling him back down on the bench. Barry wished sometimes he was just braver and that he didn’t self-sabotage as often as he did.
But Oliver wanted him, right? Why else would he have agreed to go on this date, and then sat at the sculptures with him afterward?
Barry felt a rush of confidence that he would forever be thankful for.
He brushed his nose against Oliver’s cheek. It was a little awkward at first because he couldn’t see anything and as far as he knew he could’ve brushed Oliver’s ears by mistake. Or his eye, who knew. But that didn’t happen. Instead, he felt the harsh delicious stubble with his nose and breathed out through his mouth, then kissed Oliver’s jaw. It was a slow and meditated kiss, almost languid. Oliver turned his face when Barry was shyly separating his lips from him and he breathed right over Barry’s lips.
Forget about the play, that kiss was the real sensorial experience that was giving Barry chills.
They closed the gap that separated them, melting their mouths in a first kiss full of energy and chemistry. The way their lips danced was electrical and perfect; Barry pulled his neck back for a better angle and turned around to stand properly and fully in front of Oliver and push him closer to him.
Oliver kissed with expertise, not like the guys Barry had kissed before. He had technique and elegance. The kiss didn’t go too far, but that didn’t make it less intense.
Barry didn’t even notice when the play was over. They just started being indicated to leave the room in order and that was it.
Once outside, when Barry looked at Oliver in the eyes, he felt his cheeks burning. All of his friends were sharing impressions about the play and he was just fixed on Oliver’s eyes across the small circle they were standing in and biting his lips. Oliver was giving him a look that mixed appreciation with desire for more that had Barry literally in internal crisis.
“Earth to Barry!” Cisco told him, snapping his fingers over and over again in front of his face.
Barry blinked and shook himself. “Yes, I’m here!”
“Cait just asked you what did you think about the play.”
“Right. I heard that. I was just…” shit, say something smart . “...thinking. That I didn’t like the outcome, I would’ve liked more background to it.”
“See?” Cynthia said. “He’s with me!”
Barry breathed a sigh of relief that he’d said something at least decent. He couldn’t wait to tell Cisco and Caitlin about what had just happened.
*
After the fourth play, around 8 pm, Cisco commented he would god to the groceries stand to get some popcorns for Cynthia and him.
Barry immediately thought it was a perfect chance to tell his best friend about the Kiss™ event.
“Great! I—uh, I’ll go with you,” Barry said.
Oliver placed a gentle hand on his back.
“I can buy you something, if you want,” Oliver told him caringly.
And Barry, well, he just started blurting out words.
“What? Oh, no. Thank you very much. Plus, you already paid for our tickets. Which was very kind of you, by the way. Although you didn’t have to. But now I think I’ll just go to, uh, buy popcorns. With Cisco.”
He luckily realized he needed to shut up. Oliver nodded at him, for some unknown reason smiling like it was actually not stupid at all how Barry was acting.
Barry and Cisco walked to the popcorns short line.
“What the hell was that about?” Cisco asked.
“I kind of, I don’t know, went blank back there,” Barry said, matter-of-factly. Cisco was probably about to protest and ask more questions but Barry didn’t let him speak. “Anyway, guess what!” He exclaimed, overexcited.
Cisco looked somewhat lost.
“What?”
“Guess!” Barry insisted, still frenetic.
Cisco’s eyes narrowed with judgement and speculation in them.
“I got a theory-” he started.
“Umhm,” Barry said.
“About tonight, right?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after we got here?”
“After.”
Cisco’s eyebrows lifted.
“Damn. I don’t know, we’ve been together the whole night-”
“Riiight,” Barry said. “You’re getting warmer…”
“Did you—did you two— wait, when?!”
“In. The. Dark. ” Barry almost danced on his feet like a scholar girl when he answered.
“Oh, shit and I’d thought those sounds were part of the play!”
Barry thought he was about to faint.
“What? Ohmygod did we—make any noises?”
Cisco cracked laughing.
“Oh, man, you should see your face right now.”
Barry laughed, a little offended, actually, and relaxed.
“Why am I even your friend?” Barry said, in-between chuckles.
“Because you love me! Look, we’re next already. What’s what we’re here to buy, again?”
*
In the end, Barry didn’t had a chance to tell Cait anything during the rest of the night. Maybe Cisco told her about it, and if not she might’ve assumed it along with the others simply because Oliver and Barry held hands for seemingly no reason and exchanged quick pecks before and after the rest of the plays—that Barry must say, were better than he expected.
In the line for the last play, Barry was holding his jacket, just as he had been doing it for the rest of the night.
“Hey,” Oliver said from behind him, in the most soothing voice ever.
Barry looked at him. They were very close.
“Yeah?” he murmured back.
“Let me,” Oliver took the jacket away from Barry and hung it on his arm instead. “You’ve been holding this all night. I can’t appreciate how nice you look when this jacket is covering you up.”
Barry felt himself blushing. Again. He nodded in silence, smiling dumbly.
Oliver caressed Barry’s face with the back of his palm for a moment.
“Tickets?” a worker of the theater broke the moment and they blinked rapidly out of their daze. Oliver held out the tickets and handed them to the miss, smiling politely.
*
In the car, they kissed goodbye when Oliver dropped Barry by his place again. It was sweet and somewhat shy after all. Barry felt butterflies in his stomach as he bit slightly Oliver’s bottom lip and he replied it with a quick and tender peck.
Barry forgot his jacket in Oliver’s car. But honestly? Barry couldn’t give a fuck about the jacket. It had been a perfect night.
*
Once in his apartment, Barry called another of his best friends, Iris. She had moved away from Central City to Illinois to study journalism in the Northwestern University. Barry hadn’t updated her about going on a date with Oliver so they talked until Iris was too sleepy and had to go to bed.
After Oliver got home himself, he texted Barry and let him know he’d had a wonderful night. A lot of texts were replied with Iris still on the phone, but Barry and Oliver kept texting each other until 2 am. Barry couldn’t believe the kind of thing that Oliver told him: that he was amazing, that he wanted to share moments together, that he’d been looking forward for their first date since long before Barry could even imagine.
Barry wondered what he’d done to deserve someone as good as Oliver. With every text or even back to when they were at the theater with the gestures and the tenderness in Oliver’s touch, Barry kept realizing he had at his feet one hell of a man that he’d been too blind to even consider as a potential date less than a week before.
He could predict a great future for both of them. His freaking horoscope had mentioned it and everything: “You’ll start dating someone you won’t believe is into you. It’ll work out magically.” Damn, that Instagram bitch had to be allied with the gods or the devils or something. She was always right and he'd doubted her when he’d read that.
Cisco would flip when Barry brought that up the next day during lunch. They were a little over obsessed with that Instagram Horoscopes profile and they enjoyed maybe a little too much to realize the bitch (it was an endearment term, they swore) was right Every. Freaking. Time.
Barry fell asleep with that in mind. That, and the feeling of Oliver’s soft lips still vivid on his skin. He had classes early in the morning (in about 5 hours) but not sleeping enough was being absolutely worth it.
*
Barry was happier than average the next day. He sneaked into one of Cisco’s classes and everything to discuss the events of the night before and the horoscope accuracy. Cisco didn’t pay much attention to his class that day.
“By the way, is mechanical engineering always this boring?”
Cisco sighed.
“No one knows to this date why something named Identity, Compromise and Leadership is part of the pensum, to be honest.”
*
Oliver didn’t happen to have classes that day that matched Barry’s schedule. So, on Friday, they met up. Barry was sitting in a corridor waiting for his next class to start when Oliver texted him to let him know he had arrived. They met, they hugged, time stopped, they kissed.
“How’s been your day?” Oliver asked. He took a seat on the floor next to Barry’s things. Barry joined him.
“It’s been okay, but now is ten times better.”
Oliver smiled.
“Here, before I forget it,” he grabbed Barry’s jacket from the stripes of his black, classy backpack.
“Thank you for keeping it safe with you,” Barry said.
“It has your smell all over it. I wanted to use it as a pillow but I restrained myself.”
Barry let out a laugh. “You could’ve done that, I wouldn’t’ve minded.”
Oliver had to leave not long after because he had classes to get to as well. They maybe wouldn’t spend a lot of time together, but Barry knew they would make every second count.
*
It was 8 pm on a regular weekday. Barry was at home, happy to not have any assignments for next day. He laid on his bed, headphones on, enjoying his recently paid Spotify Premium subscription.
He was just scrolling through the main dashboard with pop music on shuffle. Taylor Swift’s Don’t Blame Me started playing and the lyrics reminded him of Oliver. He rolled over and decided to text him.
I like us, you know? The way we work out. “Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.”
If it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right , Oliver replied.
Barry smiled at his phone. He typed back his response:
Of course you know the song. Oh, God, you’re perfect.
His phone chimed right away.
I like you, Barry. Very much. Don’t blame me, love made me crazy.