My fingers gingerly stroke the mettalic strings, and I feel a low humming in my chest, like a sort of buzz of electricity.

People would always think my guitar hung against my wall for the mere reason that it looked beautiful, that the blood red of it shone against the blue and gave my room a 'pop'.

But truthfully, it's always been there, waiting for me to feel okay enough to play it, to hear it's wonderful 'hum' again, to feel its heart beat with  mine.

To make me feel whole again.

I can't say that my arms didn't give way the first time I'd ever picked it up. I was tiny, and it was this ginormous beast that just wanted to be played.

I can't say that I didnt fall in love with its low, deep rumble and the way it didn't look good when anyone else played it.

It belonged to me. It's harmony, it's soul. It all belonged to me.

And now, when I pick it up after years, blowing away it's dust, and stroking it like if it were my only friend, I feel it. I feel it's love.

I can feel the electricity, the little buzz of numbness on my fingertips when I stroke a chord.

And oh it feels wonderful. It feels like there actually could be eternal happiness in this world.

It feels like this world could be perfect. And safe, and almost mystical.

But reality is keeping my from biting back my tongue to say that it isn't.

"You play?", his voice breaks my deep thought process.

I nod, still looking down at my guitar, admiring all of it at once. I'll admit, it's a lot to take in.

There's a sudden weight on my bed, next to me.

"You can look at me, you know that right?", He forces out a chuckle, trying ease off the tension, but he's nervous too, and it's not very difficult to tell.

"I don't know where I belong. Which world I'm actually from."

I keep my deep set gaze away from him, because I know I'm close to tears, with Barry being almost dead and all.

If we don't get him back, I don't know what I'm gonna do.

Roy takes my hand, massaging my palm lightly, sending little impulses of electricity through me.

"You belong here. With us. With me."

He leans in, his supple lips almost touching my ear.

" You're not leaving again, I'm not gonna let you do that", his deep husky voice causing me to shiver.

His ocean blue eyes bore into me, prying apart my thick armour, assessing every secret about me.

He pulls me into him and I almost collapse into his arms, sobbing, and I can't take it anymore.

I can't keep it all in anymore. I'm going insane, and if I don't let it out, I might as well be as brain dead as a zombie.

He strokes my hair, allowing me to calm down and to completely melt to a puddle on his pale blue shirt.

"You're okay now, hmm? You'll be fine. I've got you, don't worry Ella I've got you", His voice is muffled.

"Ella?", I croak, cringing at my voice, almost surprised that someone's ever called me that. My mum would often call me that. I remember her vaguely, the few times she would bake a cake and call out to me to help her eat the remains of a ganache, or icing.

Dad would watch us, a tender, warm look set towards me, almost laughing at my silliness when I'd fallen with the bowls contents all over my face.

I remember dad's face when he looked at mum. Like she was the most beautiful human being, and every step she'd take could bloom flowers.

He'd have this mesmerising twinkle in his eyes, and everytime he leaned in to kiss her, he made sure it was like the first time.

Dad had once told me, that he'd seen mum for the first time when she was on a date with somebody else.

Or so, she was supposed to be.

She got stood up by some jerk and my dad saw her cry.
Things just got very cheesy and cliché from there.

I don't know why I fell this sudden need to let myself loose. It's almost like a cry for help, that I need someone, anything to help me feel normal again.

I want Roy so bad, but I don't want him taken away from me. I can't have my heart broken another time.

As if he reads my thoughts, he says," I don't need protecting, trust me, I can manage myself. You need protecting more than anything", he almost chuckles again, pulling away and tucking a some of my hair behind my ear.

----

Sometimes promises can't be kept.

And now, when I witness Wells reassuring Joe and Henry that using Cisco and Iris, will work to get Barry back.

It didn't work the first time. And as Cisco had so soberly described it, Barry had moved away from him.

We're all so sure Barry has to come back now. It's our only chance.

They can't rely on me, I'm a sick, pathetic excuse of a fighter, and we won't have any chance of fighting zoom if it's only me.

Roy told me I had to simply believe in myself, and we had to just be strong, and a part of us had to be a pessimist, for we needed some support if the blow of Barry's death stood true.

And suddenly I saw the wisdom shine in his eyes, proving to me that he had learned from what he had lost.

However when I look at the storm, brewing in front of me, caused by my own best friend, I cant help but feel anxious, and naked to fear and resentment towards myself, for not being strong enough to withstand the responsibility of bringing everything together.

Somehow I'm always missing out on the days when my family need me most. And that forms a pit in my stomach, making me feel useless and worthless, only another burden on everyone's shoulders.

Now Iris is reaching in now, holding onto Cisco's hand, and it's almost as if she's speaking to someone, yelling at them for help, anything.

I can almost imagine what Iris feels, this tremendous weight on her shoulders to bring Barry back.

But I can only imagine what it feels like for her, to want him back.

And even though I don't want to pity her, I do, with much haste and hatred to feeling that way.

I'm lost in my own world, and when Joe puts a fatherly arm around me, I barely notice, I only just move closer to him, afraid of what outcome may greet us.

Roy stands at the far end of the room, his hands in his pockets, playing it casual, giving me the space I need to breathe again, but it's clear he's beyond worried. He knows, however, that if his eyes meet mine, I'm going to be an utter mess.

I can almost here Iris' muffled shout.

Joe squeaks beside me, and I cover my eyes, unsure of what might happen. I can't watch. Call me a coward, but I don't want to see my adoptive sister in pain.

Then the storm whirs away.

And I open my eyes, slowly, hoping for the best.

And there he stands in all his glory.

The Scarlet Speedster.