[screen wavering while harp plays]
Four score and seven years ago... Barry did not exist. Four years ago, however, on a particularly hot summer day, he sat beside Dawn, both of them with their backs to each other because they had recently gotten in a fight-- That sort of fight that always happens when a new person is introduced to a group of friends. Especially when the group of friends is only two, to begin with.
Everything seemed to make perfect sense when he was angry, and yelling at her, but then as he stood there of course it all slid away and he felt stupid-- but then he felt angry again, because he hated feeling stupid, and God knew that the both of them were too stubborn to say sorry but were too sorry to even leave the room, which is Barry's room by the by--
So it's not like he's going to storm out of his own house, anyway.
But it's not like he can kick her out, right? His mom would get all weird about it and then make him apologize, too, he just knows it.
Inhaling, Barry crosses his arms a bit tighter.
His room is muddled with little to nothing. A few games, stacked in a sloppy but neat tower, phone and computer on his single desk, the chair far off because he rather hates sitting for long periods of time-- an unmade bed with electric patterned sheets, and an orange bottle of prescription pills on his nightstand.
