Work Text:
Dundee is already running away towards the Billy gates with a big grin on his face when he shouts, “Thank you! I love you, Barry!”
“No, you fucking don’t”.
He doesn’t mean to say it out loud. It comes out unintentionally, slipping out between gritted teeth.
Barry realizes what he just said when he sees Dundee freeze in his tracks and turn around, staring right at him, “What did you say?“ he whispers.
He debates what to do for exactly one second before his mouth - or maybe his heart - decides to repeat the sentence that’s been echoing in his head since the morning. Since the moment Collin had come to him and had said that Dundee was on a date with someone else.
Again.
“You don’t fucking love me.”, he hisses.
Dundee stares, stunned with his mouth slightly open as on the verge of saying something.
He doesn't.
“Maybe you did at one point, or maybe you never fucking loved me.” Barry continues, growling in the back of his throat, “I just know that you don’t fucking love me now. So stop fucking saying it, Dee.”
Dundee takes a couple of steps towards him, and stops right in front of him, “What are you talking about, Barry?” he sounds sad, and looks sad too with his big brown eyes staring up at him.
Barry is unstoppable though, he knows it’s all an act, he knows it’s going to happen again and again, because it already did. Multiple times.
He feels himself gripping the browning in his hand harder, the metal biting into his palm.
Fuck the excuses, fuck the apologies, fuck the “I’ll do better”s.
He’s tired, he’s fuming, he’s heartbroken.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about” he mumbles, his baritone voice lower than normal, “you keep feeling the urge to go on dates with random people because you’re looking for someone different to relax with” he mocks, his tone going up an octave.
Dundee clenches his jaw and avoids his gaze. Huh, figures.
“I’m tired, Dee” Barry continues, “I’m tired of avoiding it all. I'm tired of bottling it all up. I’m tired of waking up and having my fucking club members running at me and telling me this stuff with pitying eyes because they feel bad for me. They feel bad for the poor fucker that stays faithful to his cheating fucking husband, no matter fucking what!" he shouts the last part of his sentence and watches Dundee flinch and look at the ground.
His heartbeat is loud in his ears and he feels his face hot and burning. He doesn't think about the people that are probably listening in to this from their houses.
Barry takes a deep breath and clenches his jaw, relaxing the grip on his pistol.
"So no, Dundee, don't fucking tell me you love me because you clearly fucking don't."
He turns around and walks home, pretending he doesn't hear his husband calling his name.