[ leaving his room behind, hers feels different. it's lighter. it's more iris than it is a blank space like his. her walls aren't as starkly white and as detached as his room is. there may be accents of black and something pretentiously fancy in its design that makes him think of rich people in rich houses sipping from rich gold goblets, but it lacks the chaos of barry allen. ]

[ he likes her room best. but despite the comfort and the light feeling he's washed over with when she pulls him inside, he begins to pace. glancing around like he's trying to search for a portion of the aether inside of her room, barry listens to her and lets her go to her computer to tap away at the keys. ]

[ in another life, this is how he used to like sneaking up on her, watching her type yet another article on the streak. ]

[ but he moves quickly, producing a gust of wind and yellow, vibrating electricity as he catapults himself from one wall to the other. it's all because iris is here to stabilise him and help him think, the voice in his head that always guides him back home. ]

I feel the same.

[ he walks toward her, shrugging his shoulders. coming up behind her, he looks over her shoulder, and stands a little too close to where she is. ]

I think if I wasn't, I'd feel it. Like when Wells took some of my speed. Maybe it really is a different kind of dark matter.