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"Barry--"
"Oliver. Out."
"I'm the vigilante."
The words hung heavy in the air, thick and bring an emotion to Barry that he couldn't place. "What?" He managed to squeak out, voice small, weak, open.
Oliver nodded, true as he took a step towards Barry, who took a step back with a shake of his head. "Barry-- I'm the vigilante." Oliver repeated, firm, affirmation that the words he were saying we true; That Barry should believe this.
But he couldn't, how could he? The SCPD had been investigating the arrow for over a year, Barry was on the case and not to mention the best forensic SCPD had. Nothing had pointed to Oliver.
"I was planning to tell you." The cliche words cut through Barry's thoughts like a knife, sharp and blunt, bringing him from the daze to the truth. Oliver was the vigilante. The man he had been dating for over three months was the man that was causing havoc.
It riled Barry.
In an odd way. A way that Barry had never felt. In a way that Barry couldn't explain. He was mad but he also wanted to curl up in a ball away from everything. "When?" He snapped, taking a strong and annoyed step towards Oliver. Oliver had the decency to remain where he stood. "When, Oliver? When the Hell were you going to tell me this?"
Oliver's face showed an expression that Barry had never seen on it before, and Oliver even dropped his head, a small shrug. "When we broke up?" He tried, looking up to Barry. Barry would say the expression that was on Oliver's face was sincere if Oliver hadn't just spoken the words he had.
"What the fuck do you mean by that?!" Barry shouted, anger bursting out of him like a flame, ignited. He couldn't focus on the sadness that was growing in the pit of his stomach.
"It was fake." Oliver admitted, and by God if Barry was a violent man he would've punched the guy. "I--" Oliver let out a shaky breath. Barry pitied him; Oliver was so wrapped up in his own problems that he thought that he had the right to cry. "I was dating you to get the information the SCPD had on the arrow. I felt like you were getting close to who it was, and I couldn't allow you all to find out it was me."
Barry laughed, hysterical and broken. "You know, we weren't. I thought it was Roy Harper." He would've rambled as to why if he wasn't so-- so-- he didn't know, but it certainly wasn't good. Oliver flushed a red, shuffling with an 'oh' escaping. Barry scoffed. "Yeah oh, you piece of shit." He spat, unable to care for what he called Oliver.
"Barry-- It was fake."
Barry made a confused expression before groaning. "You've said! You've told me, Oliver!" He shouted again, taking a step back now so he didn't do something he regretted.
"Was." Oliver repeated, and Barry breathed a laugh.
"You can't honestly expect me to believe that, not after you've told me what you have. Please leave." Barry knew he was being irrational, but the soft footsteps and loud click of the door after Oliver left comforted him in the fact that it wasn't.