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Barry didn’t want to deal with Flash duties. He also didn’t want to deal with work duties. Honestly, he really just wanted to be left alone, which was how he found himself at Saints and Sinners on a Saturday night, drinking root beer and club soda.
“You know, when most people come to a bar, it’s to drink something a bit more...potent.”
Barry grimaced at the familiar voice and chanced a glare in Leonard Snart’s direction. He was really not in the mood for this. There was a reason he chose this place on this night. There was a reason he chose a place he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew. It was so he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew.
Leonard didn’t even frequent Saints and Sinners on Saturdays as far as Barry was aware (not that he spent every Saturday following him or checking up on him). As far as Barry knew, Len spent these nights robbing banks or planning his next heist with the Rogues.
But, of course, Len would choose this Saturday out of all the Saturdays to frequent the bar. Because things couldn’t get any worse or anything.
Barry glared at the shelves of liquor behind the bar, taking a deliberately slow sip of his drink. “I could, but alcohol doesn’t do anything for me anyway.”
Len paused at that, but sat down after a moment. He hummed, waving down the bartender and ordering a whisky on the rocks. Once the drink was placed in front of him, he picked it up and swirled the liquid around, watching the ice dance in the amber pool. “So, what is it this time, kid? Girlfriend giving you the cold shoulder?”
Barry scowled and tightened his fist around his glass. He really wished there was something other than soda in his glass. Preferably, something that would actually work on him. Of course, he couldn’t be so lucky and his thoughts couldn’t be more loud.
He just wanted everything to be silent. Just this once. Just for a minute (or five). But no matter how fast he ran, he could never escape from the things that were really terrorizing him.
Len eyed him. “That bad, huh?”
Barry felt his eyes burn and pursed his lips, quickly wiping at them with his sleeve. He took a deep breath and muttered, “He doesn’t want me.”
“What?” the older man questioned, leaning closer.
“He doesn’t want me, Len!” Barry screamed, jumping to his feet. He curled his hands into tight fists and stared at Len, willing him to understand. Willing someone to understand how betrayed, how hurt he truly felt. “Did you know that my dad got out of jail? Did you know that his name was cleared because Wells confessed to killing my mother?”
Len shook his head, eyebrows drawing together and hand stretching out. “Wait a minute, Wells--?”
“Wells killed my mother!” Barry continued, voice rising. “And my dad, who’s been in jail for the past fifteen years, doesn’t want me!”
In the middle of Barry’s ranting, Len had slowly gotten to his feet, glancing around the room of onlookers. He frowned at the boy’s disheveled state. He was a little surprised by the outburst. The kid was usually the poster-boy for happiness, sunshine, and heroism, but this...this was a new side of him. Len didn’t quite know how to feel about that.
“What makes you think he doesn’t want you?” Len asked gently, trying to put the pieces together in his mind. For once, he felt like he was missing something -- no, a lot of somethings -- and couldn’t seem to keep up. If Barry’s dad didn’t want him --
“He left, Len!” Barry cried, eyes glistening and face blotchy. The hero took a steadying breath and lowered his voice, “He left and I don’t know if or when he’s coming back.”
Throwing down enough cash to cover both of their drinks for the night, Len grabbed the kid’s wrist and pulled him toward the nearest exit, away from the prying eyes and invasive ears. Once they were outside, Len turned to him again. “Barry--”
Barry’s cheeks were wet with tears and his bottom lip trembled. “Why doesn’t he want me, Len?”
Feeling something inside him break, Len pulled the younger man into his arms and wrapped them protectively around his frame. He didn’t quite know what to say here. He didn’t know what to do. The only person he’d ever comforted had been Lisa and even then he’d merely held her until she stopped crying. So, that’s what he intended to do.
Barry buried his face in Len’s shoulder, collapsing against the man’s body. He’d been strong for so long, he’d kept a brave face for so long, that letting everything go at once made him feel like he was drowning. He felt like the current was going to pull him under, but every time his knees buckled, Len held on a little tighter.
“After all this time,” Barry murmured. “Why doesn’t he want me?”
Len didn’t have an answer. Len could never have an answer to a question like that. Because why wouldn’t Henry Allen want his son? After everything he’s done to set him free? After everything he’s done for this city? Why would any parent let that go?
"I don’t know, Barry,” Len answered honestly and he held on a little tighter. “I honestly don’t know.”