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Barry was jealous of the rain.
Jealous of the way it rolled off his body, the way he didn't care. Barry would watch a droplet roll down his forearm, jealous of the way that he didn't care.
Barry was jealous of the way he loved the rain. The way he would glance out of the window, the rain droplets racing each other on the glass, and the way his face would light up like a kid getting snow on Christmas day.
Barry was jealous of the way he got more excited about the rain then he got about seeing him.
Barry was jealous of the way he insisted he didn't need an umbrella. The way he'd told him it liked the way the rain made him feel as though he was washing his sins away.
Barry was jealous of the way he would grab Iris' hands, their damp hands entwining. The way his face lit up with a smile when she spun with his aid.
Barry was jealous of the way he'd always wanted to kiss someone in the rain. The way that that "someone" wasn't him.
The thing he was jealous of the most, though?
The way the rain was closer to Eddie then he will ever be.