Work Text:
Spotify playlist: The Stranger in the House
The transition from soundless sidewalk to crunching gravel is jarring and Leonard stops short. Silence, moving unnoticed in any environment, is still ingrained in him; any sound could mean discovery (and imprisonment). He’s normally much more aware of his surroundings, wouldn’t be caught off guard in so familiar a location. He blames the Oculus and not himself. His focus is on the lot where the Motorcar diner once stood, empty now, and he almost doesn’t notice when Barry virtually materializes beside and slightly behind him. Leonard lets himself sigh, eyes sliding to take in his (not entirely, at this point) unwelcome guest.
“They tore it down last year,” Barry says in a tone that would feel more appropriate at a funeral. “Lisa and I ate there before it closed, in… 2018, I think. It was- the food was pretty bad.”
“Always was,” Len concedes. He doesn’t want to talk about it, talk to Barry, but he finds that the other man has a way of pulling him out of himself with minimal fuss.
Barry shuffles, the rough stones muffled under his sneakers but louder than Len is comfortable with, out in the open. He tilts his head, bringing Barry into better view and gets to the point,
“What are you doing here, Barry?”
“Making sure you’re okay,” is the immediate reply. “Lisa said you haven't been sleeping well the past few nights."
Len makes a face, something sour and annoyed. “Since when have you been so buddy-buddy with my little sister?”
“Since you died.”