Work Text:
He remembers when he first met Oliver. He was jealous. Reformed billionaire playboy, incredibly handsome and strong. It made him feel weaker. A playboy surviving five years on an island by himself? Barry’s not sure he would have been able to do that, and he likes to think he’s clever and crafty.
Of course, when he found out Oliver’s alter ego… well, it made sense after that. It didn’t do much to help with his jealousy, though. The firm grip on his neck – the one he couldn’t break by himself – just serves to remind him that he’s not strong enough, that he’d die without other people’s help.
And that’s just the way his whole life is. He’s just destined to be subpar. Or even below subpar. Is there such a thing as lower than below average? If there is such a thing, Barry’s the reason why it exists. He’s too skinny, he’s basically just skin and bones. No muscles at all.
He’s weak. He can’t protect himself. There’s proof enough of that from his high school days, where he spent most of the time bruised and lying in the floor because of Tony.
He never imagined that someone as strong and independent as Oliver Queen, the Arrow, would ever fall for him –Barry Allen. He’s a weakling, barely able to handle himself. He can’t fathom why Oliver would want to date him, but he’s not complaining. Oliver’s a wonderful boyfriend. And he’s never made negative comments about Barry’s body.
The same can’t be said for his other friends. The offhand comments that Iris makes about him being skinny – or the comparison to Oliver (“his arms are like twice the size of yours”). Or the comment that Felicity made about Ray being Barry, but in Oliver’s body. It makes Barry’s gut twist. His body isn’t good enough.
It hurts. These people are supposed to be his friends. They’re supposed to be supportive of him. And he knows they mean it jokingly – because they would never purposefully put him down – but it still hurts. Every single time they make a comment it punches him in the gut.
But it’s Cisco’s comment that hurts the worst.
“I was gonna say, cause it looks a lot smaller on you. Right?”
He’s not good enough. He’s too skinny. He’s strong, but he’s not Oliver strong. He’s a superhero, but he’s not Jay. Jay’s so perfect, he looks like a superhero. He saves people all the time. Barry’s just some skinny kid that can run fast, a skinny kid that gets people killed.
And being compared to Jay isn’t even the worst. It’s when he’s compared to Oliver – his own boyfriend. He knows Iris doesn’t realize the effect her words have on him, but every time she says “you’re so lucky, he’s so muscly” and “his muscles are way bigger than yours”, it hurts.
He can’t help but compare himself to Oliver whenever they’re together. He always catches himself eyeing Oliver’s arms, feeling jealous at how he can see the clear outline of the muscle through his shirt sleeves. He feels sick when he remembers that time he borrowed Oliver’s suit and tie, his stomach turning because it had been so big on him.
And really, Cisco’s comment had been the last straw. He was one of his only friends that had never made a comment about his body. But Cisco’s comment stings. “’Cause it looks a lot smaller on you. Right?”
“Hey, man. You okay?” Barry blinks, Cisco’s voice breaking him from his thoughts.
“I’m fine.” Barry mutters.
“You know, we can just get you a new sweatshirt.”
“I don’t want one.” Barry spits out, turning around to face Cisco. He doesn’t mean to be so gruff about it, but a new sweatshirt would just make it worse. He loves – loved – that sweatshirt, it’s so warm and comfy, – and it hid how skinny he was – but now it just reminds him of how inadequate he is compared to Jay.
Cisco furrows his eyebrows and looks at Barry in confusion. Barry’s been way off since Jay showed up. “Whoa, man. What’s wrong?”
Barry clenches his jaw and shakes his head. He can’t talk about this, he’s never talked about this with anyone other than Joe. And the only reason why Joe knows is because he caught Barry all those years ago trying to stuff his face, trying to gain some extra pounds. It never worked, though, he was still the same lanky kid.
“Barry?”
Blaine blinks and looks at Cisco. “I’m not good enough.” He mutters before he’s zipping away in a whirl wind of papers.
--
His stomach twists as he stares at the contents of the fridge. He wants to eat. He wants to eat as much as he can, but he can’t. His mind flashes back to those times he over ate and made himself sick, so sick that he could barely stomach food for weeks – which, of course, made him lose even more weight. Because even when he tries to help himself he just makes everything worse.
But what’s the point of even trying to eat now? His body will just burn through the calories before he can gain any weight. He’s stuck as a skinny loser for the rest of his life – powers or no powers, he’s just not good enough. Lightning had given him abs, why couldn’t the lightning have given him bulk? And arms the size of Oliver’s.
“Bar?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it, Joe.” Barry mutters, as he steps past Joe. He tries so ignore the knowing look he sees in Joe’s eyes. He knows the gears are turning in Joe’s head and it won’t be long before Joe’s trying to talk about it with him.
Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Joe’s there – knocking on his door and walking in. He shifts onto his side and stares at the wall. Suddenly it’s like he’s a teenager and he’s back to that night – one of the many nights – when Joe tried to talk to him, confronting him about all of the food wrappers hidden in his desk drawer. And asking him about the scale he’d bought with his allowance.
“Barry?” Joe asks, walking into the room with a light knock, not waiting for permission. “You want to tell me something?”
“Tell you what?” Barry mumbles. He ducks his head and avoids Joe’s eyes. He knows his foster father is smart – he’s a cop, it’s his job to know when something’s up. He knows Joe can’t have missed the bruise on his face. It’s not exactly hidden.
Joe drags Barry’s desk chair over beside the bed and sits down, resting his arms on the back of it. “Maybe that bruise? Or the scale you have in here?”
Barry brings his legs up onto the bed and wraps his arms around them, resting his chin on his knees. “Tony.” Barry mumbles in response.
“And the scale?”
Barry hangs his head down and hides his face in shame. “I’m too skinny. I can’t take care of myself.”
“Barry…” Joe calls out, drawing Barry back to the present.
“I’m not a kid anymore, Joe. I don’t need your help with my problems.” Barry mumbles, but there isn’t heat behind the words.
“You’re right.” Joe nods his head, sitting on the end of Barry’s bed. “But you’re still my son. That means you’re problems are my problems.”
“Joe…” Barry trails off, his voice breaking with emotion. He blinks back the tears forming in his eyes and forces out a humorless laugh – filled with all the bitterness he’s feeling. “It’s the same as last time. The same as every time…” He admits, only because he knows Joe will figure it out eventually anyway.
“Just ignore them, Bar, there’s nothing wrong with you and they’re wrong.”
Barry shakes his head and laughs bitterly again. “Kinda hard to ignore them when it’s my friends saying those things about me. “He’s like Barry in Oliver’s body.” And “His arms are like twice the size of yours!” Oh and let’s not forget that my sweatshirt looks tiny on Jay.” Barry pauses and wipes the tears from his eyes. “And the worst thing is that they compare me to Oliver. They make me feel like nothing compared to my perfect, handsome, buff boyfriend. I’m weak compared to Oliver.”
“No one thinks you’re weak.” Joe says gently. “Especially Oliver.”
Barry rolls his eyes and scoffs in disbelief. “Can you just… leave me alone?”
“Alright, Bar.” Barry watches blankly as Joe pats him on the knee before leaving. He’s a bit surprised that Joe actually left him to mope in solitude.
--
Barry doesn’t go into work the next day. He calls in sick and Joe must’ve vouched for him because Captain Singh doesn’t question it. So he just lies in bed all day. He doesn’t even eat, he doesn’t feel like eating and he knows that he’ll just over eat and make himself sick anyway. And there’s no point. His body will just burn all the calories.
It’s just past two in the afternoon when Barry hears the front door open and close before the stairs creak. Barry rolls his eyes and sighs. The last thing he needs is for Joe to come and check on him like a child.
“Hey, Barry.”
Barry rolls over in his bed because that wasn’t Joe. That sounded like, “Oliver.” Barry croaks out. “What’re you doin' here?”
“Well,” Oliver leans against the doorframe. “I got two separate calls saying that you needed me. I didn’t know that Joe and Cisco even had my number.”
“I can’t imagine why. I’m fine.” Barry rolls back over so that he’s facing the wall again. “Just... go away.
“You’re not.” Oliver says. He pulls Barry’s desk chair over next to Barry’s bed and sits down. “You don’t have to tell me, but I’m not leaving.”
Barry huffs out a sigh and stares stubbornly at the wall. The silence stretches between them. Barry can feel Oliver’s eyes boring into his back and that’s enough to make him speak – because he knows that Oliver loves him. And despite how Barry feels, he knows that Oliver doesn’t – would never – judge him. “I… I’m not happy with myself.”
“What do you mean?”
Barry swallows thickly and shifts over on his bed. He stares at Oliver until his boyfriend gets the hint, the older man toeing off his shoes and slipping into the bed beside him. “Do you remember our first time?”
Oliver turns his head to look at Barry. “You wouldn’t take your shirt off…” He trails off and looks thoughtfully at Barry. “You don’t like how you look.”
With a shake of his head, Barry lets out a bitter laugh. “No. I don’t” Barry admits, lifting a hand to wipe the tears from his eyes. “I’ve hated myself since I was a kid… I’m just. I’ve always been…scrawny. Tiny. I’m so easy to push around.”
“You’re not –“
“But I am!” Barry interrupts. “Even as the Flash I get pushed around and… I’m not strong like you, Oliver. Your arms are ‘twice the size’ of mine.”
“Barry… I know I can’t tell you how to feel about yourself, that’s something you have to do yourself, but I can tell you how I feel about you.” Oliver says. He slips his hand into Barry’s hand. “And I think that you’re the most handsome and the strongest man I know – mentally and physically.”
Barry turns and buries his face in Oliver’s neck. He lets out a sob and wraps his fist around Oliver’s shirt. He presses himself into Oliver’s side when he feels arms wrap around him. Strong arms – Barry thinks bitterly.
“You’re amazing, Barry.” Oliver murmurs. He knows, when Barry looks at him, that Barry doesn’t believe him. He’s not sure how he’s ever missed it before because he can see the disbelief and self-loathing in Barry’s eyes. The intensity of that hatred concerns him and he just hopes that he can help Barry with this.
But at least Barry talked to him; it’s a start.