Veritas Vos Liberabit: Chapter 1

frozenflash:

This is a fill for the Hurt Barry square on my Coldflash Bingo card from @coldflashweeks. This is only the first scene and a half - the rest can be found on AO3, linked below.

Summary: If you had asked Barry a year ago where he thought he’d be now, he would’ve had it all mapped out. Fourth year of his undergrad, finishing up his degree with a thesis that was no doubt consuming his every waking thought. Fresh off his co-op at the most innovative lab in the country, he would’ve said something about the countless job offers he’d be fielding for when he finally graduated, or maybe about taking the track team to championships for the fourth year in a row and coming back with another gold medal to hang on his wall.

Instead, he’s sitting in the bleachers of the stadium watching his boyfriend score another touchdown, waiting for the game to finish so Len can pretend he doesn’t know him and Barry can pretend he wouldn’t give anything to have just a piece of this — the turf under his sneakers, the burn behind his ribs, the rush of competition.

Read on AO3

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The track team at CCU saved Barry’s life. It was hard to explain that to people, and even harder to find someone who understood when he did, but it was true.

He’d been told countless times that everyone struggled their first year in college, that it was normal to feel like you couldn’t get your head above water long enough to take a breath. It was part of the adjustment phase — you just had to grit your teeth, bucker down, and fail a few assignments until you figured out how to manage life in the real world.

Only, for Barry it had been more than that. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t focus on the work he needed to do. It seemed like every time he finally got one thing out of the way, six more popped up. He felt like an alien on campus, like he was an imposter in every room he walked into. The friends he tried to make felt more like acquaintances who only sat with him because it was better than sitting alone. His roommates were distant, uncomfortable to be around, and he couldn’t stop feeling like he was invading their space and that they would be so much happier if he wasn’t there.

He felt like that about most people, really. No matter how kind they were, how far out of their way they went to talk to him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was unwanted. And when it got harder and harder to get out of bed, to drag himself to the kitchen and find something to eat, to make the ten minute walk to campus to attend his classes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dragging everyone around him down with him.

It took Joe driving all the way across the city in the middle of the night for him to accept that what he was feeling was more than the college stress everyone else talked about. He spent that night in the hospital, staring at white walls while Joe hovered at his bedside, the picture of the concerned parent.

It was his therapist who recommended the team. Or, well, who recommended some kind of involvement on campus. She thought it would help him to feel less out of place and that it might provide him the opportunity to make more meaningful relationships.

At the time, he’d still been wary of trusting anything she had to say. It hadn’t been his idea to see her, but he’d promised Joe he’d talk to someone after he’d refused to talk to him.

Still, he thought it couldn’t hurt. He’d attend the try outs, not make the team, and he could go back to his therapist and tell her he’d tried but it wasn’t in the cards.

That wasn’t what happened. What did happen was that the coach pulled him aside and told him that while he wasn’t good enough yet, he had potential. He wouldn’t be in any of the upcoming competitions, but he could train with the team and probably be ready in time for the midseason races. It was the break Barry had been waiting to catch, but he almost didn’t take it.

It wasn’t until he’d attended the first training session, exhausted from waking up at five in the morning after another night of being unable to fall asleep, that he really accepted that this was something he wanted to do. It wasn’t just that the environment was more welcoming than anywhere else he’d been on campus, or that the other boys on the team slapped his shoulder and joked around and smiled like he’d been their brother all their lives, or that the coach didn’t scold him for finishing two minutes behind everyone else, just clapped his arm and told him what to change to be faster the next time. It was the one part of it that Barry had been most wary of — the running itself.

Growing up, kids his age had never taken well to Barry. Whether it was because he was good in school but quiet on the playground, or because their parents told them not to play with the kid who’s dad was serving life in Iron Heights, he was the target of all the aggression they couldn’t get out elsewhere. He’d learned quickly not to delude himself into thinking he could defend himself. When it came to fight or flight, Barry always chose flight.

Back then, running had been a means of survival. How fast he could run equated to how many beatings he took. The shame that accompanied the black eyes and insults he couldn’t get out of his head rubbed off on the act of running itself, and it became associated with everything that sucked about going to school.

Running on the track team, though? It was freeing. It was a satisfying burn behind his ribs every time he beat his last best time. It was the turf of the CCU track staining his sneakers more and more green with each early morning training session he attended. It was the air on his red cheeks, turning the sweat on his body ice cold as he passed the other boys. It was the first thing he’d done all year that had felt right.

Barry wasn’t sure where he would’ve been if he hadn’t found that. It had been the foothold he’d needed to finally get his head above water and take that first breath of clean air. Without it, he would’ve surely drowned.

Now that he couldn’t have that, he was worried he would start to lose his footing and go under again.

Barry was very familiar with the parking lot behind the CCU stadium. It was reserved to people with a permit, which consisted of the various team members and staff who used or worked at the arena. This meant that it was either completely packed or completely empty at all times, and never anything in between.

Barry himself didn’t have a pass, but the car he was by wasn’t registered under his name, so the permit sat on the dashboard, announcing to the world that there’d be hell to pay if they towed it. As if the Ferrari logo wasn’t doing a good enough job of it.

Tucking his phone away, he kicked his leg up where he was already leaning against it and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. The parking lot was full of cars, but he was the only person in sight. It wasn’t surprising — practice hadn’t let out yet, and anyone else who cared probably had better things to do with their time than wait around like a desperate groupie.

No sooner had he thought it than the back door swung open and a gaggle of boys came pouring out. They were loud enough that it was jarring after twenty minutes of waiting in silence, jostling each other around and shouting light-hearted insults across the parking lot as they all dispersed to their respective cars.

Barry didn’t care about any of that. He only cared about the guy who was now walking toward him, sporting the letterman jacket Barry had made countless jokes about when he first saw it and a look that said he wasn’t entirely happy to see him.

“Hey,” Len greeted when he got close enough to be heard at the hushed half-whisper he was using. He hoisted his duffle bag with all his football gear higher up on his shoulder, glancing behind him to the rest of the team as he came to a stop before Barry. “I thought we were meeting at your place?”

Continue on AO3