Bart Allen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beforeyoucanblink) wrote2009-01-13 01:29 pm
beforeyoucanblink) wrote2009-01-13 01:29 pm
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At superspeed, everything’s quiet. There’s only you and the rhythm of your feet hitting the ground and your heart pounding in your chest. It’s like entering a world of your own; the only people who can know about it are you and a farmboy somewhere in Kansas.
…And:
The ‘Wait up!’ is like a battering shot; it shatters everything.
(It’s not as poetic as it seems; trust us.)
So, two speedsters meet in an alleyway. One says “Who the hell are you?” The other says “I was just about to ask you the same question”. And then, because speedsters are scientifically proven to run on their stomachs, they adjourn to a pizza place.
It’s not like talking to Tommy, because that was really easy. This is awkward and unnerving, because the other kid’s wearing a green sweatshirt that looks weirdly like his, and their table fills with silence while they both figure out which of the many questions to ask.
Bart’s the one who breaks the silence, this time: “So what’s your name?”
“It’s Thad.”
Thad doesn’t stay still, anytime. He constantly drums his fingers against the table, tap tap t-tap tap, going in and out of superspeed unobtrusively. The table’s going to have a hole in it by the time they’re done talking. “So what about you?”
He hesitates. You have to take a leap of faith, sometimes; he’s not sure what makes him think now is the time, but: “It’s Bart.”
Thad’s fingers slip into superspeed, unnoticed. If his world just shattered, he doesn’t show it. “Allen?”
Bart’s hand tightens convulsively. “Wh,” he says. But Thad’s gone already.
Crap.
As he slides out of his chair to chase Thad, he knocks over his water glass. It shatters on the ground, unheeded.
(Well, maybe just a little bit poetic.)
…And:
The ‘Wait up!’ is like a battering shot; it shatters everything.
(It’s not as poetic as it seems; trust us.)
So, two speedsters meet in an alleyway. One says “Who the hell are you?” The other says “I was just about to ask you the same question”. And then, because speedsters are scientifically proven to run on their stomachs, they adjourn to a pizza place.
It’s not like talking to Tommy, because that was really easy. This is awkward and unnerving, because the other kid’s wearing a green sweatshirt that looks weirdly like his, and their table fills with silence while they both figure out which of the many questions to ask.
Bart’s the one who breaks the silence, this time: “So what’s your name?”
“It’s Thad.”
Thad doesn’t stay still, anytime. He constantly drums his fingers against the table, tap tap t-tap tap, going in and out of superspeed unobtrusively. The table’s going to have a hole in it by the time they’re done talking. “So what about you?”
He hesitates. You have to take a leap of faith, sometimes; he’s not sure what makes him think now is the time, but: “It’s Bart.”
Thad’s fingers slip into superspeed, unnoticed. If his world just shattered, he doesn’t show it. “Allen?”
Bart’s hand tightens convulsively. “Wh,” he says. But Thad’s gone already.
Crap.
As he slides out of his chair to chase Thad, he knocks over his water glass. It shatters on the ground, unheeded.
(Well, maybe just a little bit poetic.)