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Drip
Drip
Drip
This is the sound that Barry Allen had woken up to far too many times over the past few months. He could almost set his alarm by the frequency this happened. He knew that his bedmate had gotten up in the middle of the night to refresh himself. Barry opened his eyes, staring up at the dark ceiling before turning his head to look at the clock sitting on the bedside table.
Yup, he knew it. 6:20 AM.
Barry stood up, stretched quickly, and made his way into the kitchen to turn off the faucet that was so carelessly left on.
You’d think that the King of the Seas would be a little more environmentally conscious.
Barry decided that he still had some time, so he did a little kitchen maintenance. Mopped the floor, cleaned the counters, clearing the various gifts off the kitchen table, taking one moment to appreciate one gift in particular.
It was, according to Iris when he asked her later on for her expert opinion, a “damn fine” bottle of whiskey. Barry didn’t drink, so he had no use for it, but he accepted it anyway. He lifted the bottle to his eyes, looking at the tag attached to the neck of the bottle. It read “Had a great time last month, we should do it again. All the best – B.B.”
Barry smirked and put the bottle up in the cabinet, perhaps he’d need it someday.
By the time he had finished cleaning up, making his home a bit more pleasant after last night’s ruckus, he noticed the clock on the wall read 6:21 AM. He gave a low sigh, almost in defeat. He retired back into the bed, turning to his side to appreciate the sleeping form next to him.
Arthur Curry wasn’t exactly who he expected to spend the past few months with, but it somehow happened. He admired the sleeping king next to him, watching his chest rise in rhythmic breathing.
Barry moved in close to him, covering himself up, which was almost impossible due to Arthur’s insistence of sleeping ON TOP of the sheets instead of like a normal person and inside of them.
But Barry couldn’t complain too much.
He had a gorgeous boyfriend, a nice home, and superpowers. What else could he need? He noticed that after the party, Arthur had slipped into a pair of pajama pants with little purple octopi on them and Barry couldn’t help but smile. He had gotten Arthur those as a gag gift a year previously, when they had celebrated Arthur’s birthday on the Justice League watchtower.
*
Atlanteans did not really celebrate birthdays.
Yes, they observed the day of their birth, but there were no parties held in honor of them, no gifts. Maybe a family gathering, but that was all.
There were no grand productions, feasts, or presents. And there definitely wasn't cake that they had to pretend to enjoy just because Diana would pound them if they said otherwise. Obviously, baking was not in Wonder Woman’s power set, but God bless her, she tried anyway to make this a nice occasion.
Barry thought throwing Arthur a party would help him forget what happened, just for a moment.
How could he have been so foolish?
Arthur tried to put on a brave face, but Barry knew that he was torn up inside. Arthur had a fake smile plastered on his face the entire night. From start to finish. Barry knew it was a mask, he hadn’t seen Arthur smile in so long. Not a genuine smile, anyway.
Not since…
*
Arthur woke with a start, tossing Barry’s arm off of him and he began to sit up, but he felt hands on his shoulder and a voice in his ear.
“Whoa, calm down, Art. It’s just me…”
Arthur looked over next to him, his eyes wide and frantic until they stopped on Barry’s face, where he immediately calmed down. He relaxed, putting his own hand onto Barry’s and taking the speedster’s touch off his shoulder. “Sorry, I…I just thought…”
“It’s okay, Art. I know. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you. I was hoping you would sleep in today, after last night. But I understand. Did you see it again?”
Arthur nodded.
He had been replaying the same nightmare – no, not nightmare - personal hell for the past year and a half. He could still hear the screaming, the clash of metal on metal, rubble coming down around him. He felt so powerless then.
He turned and sat on the edge of the bed, putting his head in his hands. Barry got out of bed and knelt down in front of him, taking the king’s hands in his own. When Arthur looked up, Barry could see the pain in his eyes. These were the eyes of a broken man, one who had nothing left to lose.
“Hey, listen to me. It’s not your fault, alright? I know you want to blame yourself, but you can’t. Please don’t beat yourself up, I hate seeing you do this to yourself.”
“You can’t possibly understand, Barry. It was my fault. I could have stopped him, but I couldn’t. I was use—“Arthur was cut off when he felt Barry’s lips take his own. He gave in and returned the kiss, pulling away moments later. “I’m sorry, I just can’t help but feeling like I could have done something differently. I have to live with this, Barry. I can’t let you help me. This is my burden to carry.”
Barry sighed.
They had this conversation multiple times over the past months, and it always ended the same way. An argument that lasted the entire night, silence between the two of them, and more often than not with Barry sleeping alone.
Arthur would talk to him when he was ready, Barry knew that. He couldn’t push the issue anymore.
Arthur got out of the bed and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He knew Barry had good intentions, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask for help. This was his fault; he would have to live with this forever. He had to admit to himself that he was thankful for Barry.
Barry was the first member of the Justice League to show him any acceptance and he was the first to come to him after what happened. He didn’t expect to find himself in a relationship with the speedster, but it just sort of blossomed one evening while they were both in the Watchtower on duty.
*
They had conversed the entire night, the same night that Barry had come out to him. He explained that Iris wasn’t very happy when he broke up with her due to him being gay, but that they were still great friends. Arthur paid him little attention, but Barry didn’t seem to notice because he kept rambling.
Arthur was still struggling with his inner turmoil that entire night until he realized there was silence and he looked up to find Barry staring at him. “Sorry. I was just…thinking.”
“Yes, Arthur. I know what you were doing. Come on, let’s take a walk. Clear your head.” Barry stood up and grabbed Arthur by the arm, who immediately yanked it out of his grip. “I can do it myself, Allen”, he snapped. Arthur noticed the flash of disappointment on Barry’s face, which disappeared a millisecond later. “
Sorry, Your Highness,” Barry sneered and ran off. Arthur stared after him, debating whether or not to go after him. Eventually, he gave in and made his way through the Watchtower’s vast halls.
“Barry! Where are you?” he yelled out, receiving nothing more than his echo and the tiny hums of the machinery inside the walls in response.
As he walked, he thought about how it might help him if he could talk about what happened with someone.
Flash had been one of the first to welcome him into the team with open arms, accept him as a friend, and what did Arthur do in return? Snap at him at every chance he could, disregard him, reject the advances that Barry would often make towards him about trying to be friendlier with the others, that he needed to open up some more.
He could never understand, though. He’s too easy going and kind of an idiot, Arthur thought to himself.
No, he knew that last part wasn’t true. He knew that Barry was some sort of scientist, he had told him that when they discussed, quite one-sidedly, how both of them had gotten their abilities.
There was a whoosh and a screech as Barry stopped short in front of him. Arthur knew full well that Barry did that just to be annoying, everyone knew Barry could be as quiet as a mouse when he stops short, no need for the theatrics.
“Finally got that look off your fishface, sourpuss?” Barry goaded. Arthur sneered at him and opened up his mouth to say something, but couldn’t when he felt Barry kiss him.
Arthur pushed him away quickly, his eyes full of anger and confusion. “What the hell was that about?! Did I give you permission to do that? What is wrong with you, you fucking moron?” Arthur screamed at him.
Barry looked taken aback and now had his back against the wall, cornered. He could easily run away, but he wouldn’t.
Not this time.
“Listen, I’m sorry Arthur, but this is the first time I’ve seen you show any emotion since what happened! I had to do something to get you to act like your old self!”
“So what, you thought kissing me out of nowhere would help me? How could anyone be so heartless? My family is dead, Allen. They died because of me. I did this to them and nobody else can help me because this is my fight. I left them alone. I led Black Manta right to them. He took them from me, Barry. He took my family. My…he took my…my boy, Barry. Oh god, my son. My wife. They’re all guh-huh-oh…”
Arthur slumped to his knees, his face in his hands and his shoulders shaking. His sobs weren’t audible, but Barry heard them all the same. He knelt down, slowly putting his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, who instead of pushing him off, sank into Barry’s frame. Barry could feel Arthur’s body shaking, and that’s when the sobs turned to tears and finally Arthur let someone share the burden.
*
Arthur exited the bathroom to an empty room. He could hear whooshing and clinking coming from the kitchen, where he knew Barry was cleaning.
Again.
He learned very early on that Barry cleaned when he was nervous or frustrated. He stood in the doorway that led into the kitchen, watching a blur move from one end to the other a million times. He cleared his throat and it immediately stopped, Barry stood there with his arms crossed.
“What’s wrong?” he huffed. “I’m cleaning”.
Arthur stared at him, finally glancing down and opened his mouth, “Barry. I need to see them.”
In a flash, Barry was across the room and had Arthur in his arms. “Are you sure? I mean, are you absolutely certain about this? I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”
“I’m positive. I think I need this more than anything right now”, Arthur said, shifting his weight to his other foot. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. This is just very hard on me, you know that, I’m sorry.” Arthur buried his face into Barry’s neck, letting himself take a moment to relax in his boyfriend’s arms.
Barry understood completely. It had only been a short time since Black Manta had attacked, and he knew the pain was still raw. He knew that Arthur didn’t mean to act out, it was the only way he showed how he was feeling. His entire world had crashed around him, leaving a broken man and nobody else to help him up.
Barry broke the hug, putting his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and smiling broadly. “Alright, let’s go then. If this is what you want to do, I know I can’t stop you.”
Arthur planted a kiss on Barry’s cheek, enjoying the small amount of stubble that was growing. He turned and went back into the room, stopping at the closet. He stopped short, his eyes immediately snapping to a piece of paper he had attached to the closet door as a reminder. He took it down, his eyes beginning to tear up.
It was a piece of yellowed construction paper with a crude portrait on it. In crayon were four figures. A woman with blazing red hair, a man that stood tall, his hair drawn in bright yellow; between them was a smaller figure, also with yellow hair. On the other side, a yellow dog with a red tongue hanging. At the top, in green crayon and written in large, messy handwriting were the words “MY FAMILY”.
Arthur put a hand to his mouth, a tear falling and hitting the paper and darkening the face of the small figure in the middle.
He held the picture tightly in his hand as he browsed through the speedster’s closet. He knew he wouldn’t find what he wanted in here, but he had to put something on. He chose a Central City Cougars shirt and a pair of jeans.
Not something he would normally wear, but it was better than walking outside in pajama pants with cartoon octopi on them and no shirt, despite how much Barry would enjoy that. He put the picture in his pocket.
“I’m ready!”, he yelled through the door and he felt another gust of wind, and suddenly the fully dressed form of Barry Allen was in front of him. “Gee, you sure take liberties with *my* clothes, don’t you? You really should bring more of your own stuff over, you know. I mean, you sleep here every night and you always do laundry. Just saying, it wouldn’t hurt…”
Arthur sighed and he was on his way out the front door. “We need to make a couple of stops first”, he explained.
Barry nodded, “I get it. Don’t worry about it. Just let me know where”.
Arthur glanced around, making sure they were alone. He didn’t exactly enjoy this next part, but there was really no other way. He should invest in a car or maybe an invisible jet. It works for Diana. He positioned himself, bracing for the impact. Next thing he knew, he was in Barry’s arms, speeding away towards their destination.
*
Rubble surrounded them, the ruins of a lighthouse that once stood tall and proud.
Now it was reduced to a pile of bricks by the sea. Arthur stood next to Barry, who had his hand on the shoulder of Arthur’s armor. He had changed into his Atlantean royalty garb on the way here.
Barry had never seen Arthur wear it except a few times when he still ruled Atlantis, but that was years ago. It now sat in a cave somewhere underwater. Arthur called it his Aquacave, the place he first began his role as Aquaman, somewhere near a place called Mercy Reef. Arthur put his empty hand onto Barry’s and gave it a squeeze.
“I’ll be right here”, Barry said reassuringly. Arthur nodded and made his way down to the pier, the starting point of Black Manta’s attack. He stood there, staring out at the sea. A home that no longer accepted him; a land that had exiled him. He may have been a king, but no longer. Although there were still some who believed him to be the true king and whom he still had their loyalty.
Along the shore were three small piles of stone and brick. Arthur tightened the grip, taking his first step off the pier. He looked back and saw Barry standing by the lighthouse, his face somber but supportive. He was so lucky to have Barry, he knew this. Nobody else would have tolerated his behavior, his mood swings.
The stones came into view and Arthur swallowed, a lump in his throat. He stood before the leftmost one and read what he had crudely written on it: “Mera Curry. Beloved Wife, Mother. The Sea Feared Her”.
The stone next to it read “Arthur Curry, Jr. Beloved Son. The Sea Loved Him”.
Finally, the last stone, which read: “Salty. Beloved Friend. He Loved the Sea”.
Arthur’s knee buckled and he fell to a kneeling position before Mera’s makeshift grave. “I’m so sorry, Mera. I should have done something. I am so sorry, my love. I can never forgive myself. Black Manta took you away from me. Took our son. Our SON!”, Arthur banged his fist on the rocks, ignoring the pain that suddenly flared in his hand.
Barry looked on as Arthur fell to his knees. He wanted nothing more than to run over there and take his boyfriend into his arms and take him away. But he knew he couldn’t. He had to let this happen. It tore him up inside to watch Arthur go through this again. It was bad enough he relived the nightmare every night. He hadn’t come to visit them in a year at the least.
Not since the attack.
He knew Arthur thought he wasn’t strong enough, but he knew otherwise. Arthur had to let it out sometime, and this seemed like the best time to let it happen. He heard a yell and looked up to see Arthur shaking, sobbing loudly.
Arthur’s body shook, tears ran down his cheeks and fell to the sand. His tears would enter the ocean, join the others that he had shed over the years.
Sometimes it felt that his life would be nothing more than agony, ridicule, and suffering. Losing Mera. Losing Arthur, Jr.
These losses had hurt more than being exiled, losing his father, both of his mothers. He reached over to the side where he dropped the items he brought. A bouquet of bright red carnations, a flower that Mera had fallen in love with soon after their first journey to the surface. He had remarked that it reminded him of her hair, and she had laughed. He could still hear her laugh ringing in his ears. How he missed it. He laid the bouquet at her grave and reached into his pocket.
He removed the picture and smoothed it out as best he could. He held it in his fist, hesitating letting it go. But he had to.
It was the last memento he had from his son, but he had to give it up. He hoped by seeing them once more, giving them something, he would be able to let go and live peacefully. He knelt down in the sand once more.
He smiled softly, remembering the first time he held his son. It felt like so many years ago, when Mera glowed so beautifully. The first time that little Arthur Jr. had grabbed his father’s finger, creating a bond that would last forever.
Or 5 years, as it turned out.
“I miss you so much, son. I failed you. I failed you and your mother. I’m nothing but a failure and I’m so sorry. I never should have let this happen to you. I hope you can forgive me, son. I never wanted to bring you into this life, but Black Ma—No, I won’t speak his name in front of you. He won’t get the satisfaction. I loved you so much. And I always will.”
Arthur dug a small hole in the sand next to his son’s makeshift grave and placed the picture inside. It was the best he could do.
Arthur looked over to Salty’s grave. He almost laughed, but he caught himself. He still thought that name was ridiculous. Mera had thought it up, but they couldn’t change it. In that moment, it was perfect. They had rescued the poor guy from the Trench attack, an ordeal that pushed everyone to their limit. He and the dog had quickly hit it off and he had fond memories of AD prancing around the house, immediately taking a liking to Arthur, Jr. when he invaded the house. He watched his son and that dog grow to become best of friends. He would never see that ever again. He would never again watch Mera put Arthur Jr. on AD’s back and have him ride around as if on a mighty steed.
“It’s about time you got some rest. So vigilant, so loyal. Even if we hadn’t given you a proper name. I’m going to miss you, buddy. Good dog…”
*
Arthur and Barry stood there, their arms wrapped around one another. Arthur had once again buried his face in Barry’s neck.
He spoke, his voice slightly muffled, “Thank you for helping me with this, Barry. I think it was good to help me let go and come to peace with what happened. I do not think this pain will ever go away, but it seems to have calmed somewhat. I am so grateful to you, Barry. You have been there for me since the beginning, when I first joined the League. Nobody else has shown me the kindness you have. I apologize for everything I have done to you. The arguments, the yelling. I never meant any of it. I hope you know that. I…I think I love you, Barry Allen.”
Barry pulled away, holding Arthur at arm’s length. He could see Arthur’s eyes were red, from the crying he had done down at the shore. Barry’s mouth twitched into a quick smile. “Well, Mr. Curry, I do believe that’s the first time I’ve heard those words from you. I love you, too, Arthur Curry. I know this feeling will never go away, but you can’t do this alone. I’ve told you so many times, that I will always be here for you. Stop being so guarded, let me in sometime. I love you, Art. More than anything,” Barry leaned forward, planting his lips on Arthur’s cheek. Arthur moved his head to the side, capturing Barry’s lips in his own. Time seemed to slow down as they stood there amongst the rubble. Barry finally broke the kiss and smiled again. “Well, shall we go home? Buddy gave us a bottle of scotch and I never did give you your birthday present last night…”