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Someone had been knocking incessantly at the door to Barry's dorm room for three minutes. Barry stumbled around, pyjama clad and in a sleepy haze willing them to stop but they showed no sign of slowing down.
'I'm coming! Sorry! I'm just in...I was in the shower’ Barry pleaded. He crossed the small dorm room he inhabited in short strides, curious as to who it might be. He hadn't had any plans for today outside of finishing his week old lab report which was decidedly a solitary activity.
1:30 PM
He reached the door and opened it, flustered and afraid.
1:31 PM
Iris Ann West was kissing Barry Henry Allen. They were huddled together, a strange amalgam, in the same spot where Barry had crashed when Iris had jumped on him.
There had been a moment when they met in which it had seemed as though everything was normal.
Sure, Iris was currently standing in the corridor of the Fawcett City Institute of Technology residential halls, instead of sitting in her traditionalist lecture hall at Queen's University in Central City. That was odd. (Iris later explained that she’d requested ‘soulmark leave’ from her supervisor the moment she found out her 21st birthday fell on a weekday.) But when Iris had squeaked out 'Bear!' and her hands and shoulders clenched together like they always did when she was excited. Barry smiled hard, finding himself unable to speak. Iris was here, his anchor, his home. There couldn't be anything wrong with the world because they were together. He hadn't realised quite how much it ached when she was gone until now.
Then Iris locked eyes with him and there was a flash of defiance and primal want and pure need. Then she bounded up off of the floor and into his arms. Barry's whole world crashed down in a glittering shower of stars, sunshine and warmth as though everything before Iris had been simply the grey in between and now that Iris was here the world was bursting with light and colour.
When she kissed him it was with gentle force. It was like the warm breath of humidity on the first step off of a flight. For Barry, kissing Iris was like when he laughed so hard he convulsed and tears ran down his cheeks and there was nothing but happiness...except in this case there was nothing but her.
Technically, it might not have been the best kiss of all time. Barry hadn't been ready... for any of this. He was sleep-mussed, with morning breath and his pale hairy legs were exposed under his shorts. When she'd moved to embrace him he hadn't been ready so their bodies were positioned ever so slightly awkwardly. Barry had attempted to catch her by grasping her waist but his spindly hands scrabbled in the slippery material of her coat. This led to her arms being subverted from their path towards his neck. Instead, now they rested one on his shoulder and one on his bicep. None of the spatial awkwardness mattered though. They fit together like an imperfect fold, slightly overhanging, but still... still they fit. In fact most of the exhilaration came from the fact that after fifteen years of knowing one another this was something new.
Iris broke away, triumphant and laughing. She was all dimples and her smile had the intensity of a ray of sunshine. Barry broke away, dazed and inspired by her grandeur.
So, no change there really.
Iris leaned her hand up, plucking her glove off on the way and stroked it through his hair.
'That was perfect.' she spoke more quietly than she usually did, but the sentiment echoed in his mind.
'Iris. I've wanted to do that for so long...' he hesitated out of habit 'I'm so happy that you're here.' he breathed, not quite able to remove his hand from the bare skin where he had rucked up her jacket.
1:46PM
They were cuddling in his room pressed together on his single bed. Barry's hands skated freely over Iris' shoulders and her hands smoothed in his hair.
They hadn't spoken much. They tried and Iris ended up looking at his lips and squealed out,
'I kissed Barry Allen' and Barry waggled his eyebrows and replied,
'But you liiiiked it...’ and then after a slight pause, ‘I mean...you… you did like it, didn't you?' and when Iris raised one eyebrow at him he panicked and frantically continued,
'I can...I mean you caught me off...I can do better, I can...my rhythm was off...' because the worst thing in the world would be having Iris and then losing her again. In reply, Iris punched his arm and rolled her eyes, 'Of course, I liked it, Bear'.
And then she leaned down and made him make true on his promise to make it better, again and again, and again (and again and again and again).
Eventually, Iris sat up red-lipped and graceful in a way Barry didn’t think he’d ever be. She was still smiling hard and looked down at her hands, blushing.
'Can I see it, Barry?' and Barry looked up at her, mirroring her blush and decided that it seemed to be a perfectly reasonable request and reached down towards his shorts.
1:47PM
Iris frantically stopped his hand with her own, her eyes were wide and her forehead was creased as she shook her head.
'Not that!'
2:05PM
After fifteen arduous minutes of Barry apologizing profusely for making Iris uncomfortable, and Iris saying in between gasps of air (she was laughing hard), ‘It’s fine!’
Barry cocked his head at Iris.
'So, if it wasn't...um...that...then what was it?'
'Your soul mark, silly!' she said hitting his arm playfully.
There was a pause, and the hints that Barry had been suppressing for the morning slid swiftly into place in his mind. Oh. That’s why she was here.
Fuck.
His face burned hot, partially from the residual embarrassment and partially from his deeper reluctance to lie to Iris now that he knew. He had the information to turn the beauty of the image they made, flushed skin and smiles, into an imperfect and shattered image.
Today was Iris' twenty-first birthday.
It all rushed back to him very quickly.
He’d bought a giant bear, and recorded a video to send to her. He’d been frantic and scared as he did the things, because he’d known it wouldn’t be him. He had his twenty-first already and it wasn’t Iris.
It wasn’t anyone.
So he’d been worried that his gestures of affection would seem clingy. It wasn’t seen as right for close male friends to send their female friends gifts that could be construed as romantic on the day they received their soulmark. It was far more acceptable to step back and to let their soul mates and them decide the terms of their relationship and what was appropriate; but Barry couldn’t stand the idea of being forced out of Iris’ life in order to make space for someone she hadn’t even met.
He wanted to make her happy, and he figured this birthday might be his last chance to voice his feelings for her. Though he’d never actually tell her he loved her, he’d be able to call her beautiful and perfect all under the sentimental excuse of celebration.
It was easy to remember the day he had turned twenty one. In popular culture it was often called ‘The Blossom’, as a description of the bruising, reddened flesh around a new soul-mark.
The only things that had blossomed for Barry on that wretched day were his feelings of inadequacy.
He had bounded out of bed, so convinced that it would be Iris and so excited about the implications. He’d decided that he wouldn’t tell her that it was him, not until she was ready. He had never, ever wanted to force Iris into loving him.
He had stood in front of his full length mirror and checked all of the normal places for the bruising, wrists, forearms, collarbones. Then he'd panicked slightly and checked his feet, his underarms, and his back. Eventually, completely and utterly frantic he checked the crevice of his thigh and his scalp.
There wasn't anything.
Sobs had wracked his body as he'd sat on his bed shaking. He knew that there were a small proportion of people in society who just didn't have soul marks, but from what he'd seen, most of them hadn't ever even wanted to fall in love. This was different, Barry didn't just want to be in love, and he was already in love. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't in love with Iris.
He'd gone out that night to an 'Unmarked' bar called ‘No Romo’. In a normative society that expected that the vast majority of its population would wake up one day emblazoned with a name and a promise, these were few and far in between.
But they did exist.
The Aromantic portion of society spent their time in these clubs, searching for something that wasn’t any sort of a romantic connection. Everyone in the club was happy, laughing and carefree. Barry was the opposite.
He remembered Iris and him dressing up in gowns and armour when they were small to play-act Disney Movies. He remembered Iris’ chubby brown hands trembling as she knighted him with a plastic sword. She’d always follow up the sharp tap of her plastic sword on his shoulders with a promise that after his duties to the crown, he’d be free to find his soulmate. In Disney movies, that was always the goal, finally being free of your confines to go and be happy with your soulmate.
In the adult world it was slightly less idealistic.
Not everyone was loyal to a wispy figment of an idea but usually, the physical compulsion of needing to be with them was enough to eclipse all of the fanciful relationships of youth.
For Barry, the fanciful relationships of his youth were going to become the only instances of romantic love he’d ever have in his whole life. He figured that places like ‘No Romo’ would be what he'd need from now on. He’d go in to stave off the urgency and the need for intimacy; he’d imagine the smell of Iris’ hair in the seedy corners. He met a beautiful, vivacious, spunky girl called Linda, and they danced and kissed and didn't have sex, it was... nice.
Since becoming someone 'Unmarked' Barry had been fine with 'nice' and clapping the loudest for Iris on the inevitable day when she walked up the aisle into the welcoming arms of her real soulmate.
That was at least until Iris had knocked on the door to his dorm and kissed the acceptance out of him.
His heart broke slightly as he realized he was going to have to tell her that he was unmarked. He couldn't belong to her... not officially, though he’d always belonged to her in every other way he possibly could.
Barry remembered one Iris’ LSAT flashcards that read: ‘Ester Greene vs The State (1978)’ on one side in Iris’ trademark large curving writing.
It detailed the attempts of a woman to receive the legal power to take her husband off of life support. His original soulmate, the only person who legally did have the power to do that had died before they’d met.
Ester had lost.
Barry only heard the rush of blood in his ears as he remembered that case.
Ester had tried so hard and gained public favour, but the truth was that the fundamentals of American Law stipulated that laws which referred to soulmates were only allowed to be implemented by soulmates. With no exceptions.
The only thing Barry had left in this situation was the fact that his heart would always have 'Iris West' emblazoned across it in permanent ink.
Barry looked up out of his dazed recollection to see Iris’ brow furrowed as she waited for him to answer.
'Can I..uh..see yours?' he pleaded, his voice soft and desperate, needing this to be confirmed in some way.
Iris suspiciously narrowed her eyes, ‘Bar, what's wrong? Why can't I see yours? Is it somewhere awkward?'
Barry faltered and stuttered, his eyes filling with tears, completely unable to lie to Iris. Especially since she was meant to be his best friend.
Iris continued, lips pursed ‘I’ll show you it, if you promise to tell me what the hell is going on with you right after, okay?'
'Okay.' was all Barry had to say.
Iris’ mouth softened and she smiled softly and kissed him sweetly. 'Look, I know this is probably a lot to take, Bar. I mean one day I'm your hare-brained best friend and the next...'
'No.' Barry rapidly interrupted, 'It's not that at all'
'Okay.' Iris said, suddenly worried. She sighed and then whirled around; her slim brown hand came up to twirl her dark hair messily high on her head. This revealed the soft, supple skin of her slender neck, marred only by Barry's easily recognizable sprawling, scratchy script.
There, nestled in between her two lower vertebrate, tattooed into her skin was Barry Allen's name.
Barry burst into tears almost immediately. He was violently wretched and quiet with the way he cried, but it was uncontrollable. He’d never seeked any advice or told anyone about not having a soulmark. Not even Iris. He’d planned to live his life quietly eventually telling everyone that his soulmate had died before he had the chance to meet her. Now he was going to have to tell Iris that he couldn’t be the man she wanted… and she finally wanted him. He didn’t know why this was happening. It made sense that Iris would be normal, perfect even and he’d be the one throwing a spanner into their machinery.
He just didn’t want to let her down.
Iris spun back around quickly, her eyes wide and unfocused and her lip shaking.
'Barry, are you okay?’ she shouted as her hand came up to cradle his face. After a few moments she continued softly, ‘Are you okay? Is something wrong with the mark?' she concernedly asked.
He tried to answer but couldn't, his mouth just wouldn’t work and he slumped onto her. Iris couldn’t possibly understand the situation unfolding in front of her, and how he’d gone from ecstatic to catatonic in seconds. However, Iris did understand how to calm him down. He was having the same sort of panic attack she’d helped them with when they were younger. Iris quickly guided him to the bed, leaning onto him, somehow encapsulating his lengthy frame in her smaller, softer, slighter frame.
'Shh. Shh, Bar.’ She soothed, ‘You don't have to say anything yet, not till you're ready.' she crooned softly, patting his back in slow circles, just as she always had when Barry was overcome with sadness.