~More Than A Program~/// Bart Allen x Reader

Chapter 12

FINALLY MANAGED TO WRITE ANOTHER CHAPTER, SHEESH. Sorry for the wait! *sweatdrops* Enjoy another chapter guys! <3

Chapter 12

Now that your anger was drained out of your system, your classmates' constant bumping into you and so-called 'accidents' ended up stressing you rather than pissing you off. Sheesh, couldn't they just drop it? Hadn't they had their share of fun? You just wanted to spend a normal day without having to pick up your books at least thrice.

Anyway, thus, the reason you collapsed onto your couch as soon as you arrived home one night. With a loud groan, you outstretched onto your stomach.

Burying your face into your hands, you finally closed your eyes, allowing yourself to relax, and muttered bitterly, "A horrible day at school..."

"Again?" Your head whipped upwards at the sound of your companion's voice. Seeing his worried face, you weakly smiled and sat up, freeing some space for him to seat himself.

Once you had acknowledged his weight plop down next to you, you warily explained, "They haven't stopped yet. They're still walking into me and laughing behind my back. And my English teacher failed me again. It's really making me freak; what if my average drops too much?" You sighed deeply in defeat, your expression falling, as well as your gaze. "I don't want to re-take this year. Another year spent with idiots would kill me!"

"Hey." You looked back up at Bart, to be greeted by his warm, comforting smile. "Don't be so moded about it. Look, maybe you just need some fresh air to clear your head. You're overthinking things."

You couldn't help but laugh, and felt your tense muscles loosen as you did so, upon his usage of the term "moded".

You had to admit that he held reason though. All of your accumulated stress was surely making this seem much worse than it actually was...

So, with a firm nod, you agreed to his idea, and you both headed outside.

By the time that it happened, you had thoroughly relaxed, feeling oxygenized and forgetting about the recent events that had taken place at school. You were feeling great and carefree, not having a single worry as you laughed at a lame pun Bart had told.

You had noticed his laughter died down rather quickly though, and his cheerful expression was replaced with one of dread and seriousness.

Stopping your giggles, you had tipped your head to one side, frowning as you queried worryingly, "Bart? Are you feeling okay?"

You hadn't even been sure whether he heard you or not, for you'd won no response of any kind from him. Not a sound, not a twitch. He had simply kept intently staring at a single spot in the distance, brows slowly furrowing.

You had barely had time to follow his gaze, for a split second later, he had sped off wordlessly toward the place he had been observing.

And now here you were, attempting to keep up with him, which was impossible, of course, due to his superspeed. However, even when he zoomed out of your sight, you kept running in the same direction, hoping you'd find him along the way.

You feared his well-being. What had he seen, to uncharacteristically go so quiet and to leave you without even telling you where he was heading?

Ignoring your legs' unbearable stinging, and your lungs' dull burning, you continued relentlessly. I should exercise more often, you reflected with an internal groan, although such thoughts were pushed aside when a familiar brown-haired head entered your field of vision.

Bart was located in a nearby dark alley, next to a dumpster. He was bent over, his back facing you, so you couldn't see his face. Anticipating that he was hurt, you sped up your pace.

When you did, however, what you saw wasn't quite what you had expected.

Bart seemed unharmed, to your relief, but the unconscious person before whom he was kneeling's state was quite the opposite.

It was a boy, in his late teens, and whose body was littered with scabbed wounds. You barely registered his short red hair and faintly-freckled cheeks since his torn-up excuses of clothing were seemingly much more interesting to your eyes.

What really caught your attention though was the familiar logo that was imprinted along his neck.

You felt your breath hitch slightly as your eyes slowly widened in horror. Struggling not to hyperventilate, you dryly gulped and stammered out, "I-It's a-"

"Kid Flash," Bart finished for you, not taking his eyes off the Speedster.

You had been able to identify it so quickly because of the Speedsters Incorporation signature's emplacement. Kid Flashes had it on their neck, but since this had proved to be inconvenient during military missions, designers moved it to their descendants' ankle so it wouldn't be as visible. Such changes were made before the Incorporation decided that the Impulse would be used strictly in homes. However, they didn't mind the logo's displacement, and said nothing of it.

"I picked up its SOS signal on my radar. It's injured." Bart slowly got to his feet, and then turned toward you. His expression gave away nothing but seriousness as he firmly announced, "We have to help it, (Y/N), or it'll die."

"W-What!?" You couldn't help but blurt out, taken completely off-guard by his remark.

Panicking slightly, you blabbered on, "But we can't! I-I mean, I won't know how to treat it, and we don't have anywhere to place it, and we can't just take it, a-and-"

You cut yourself off abruptly. Tears were brimming the corners of your eyes as flashbacks of your parents getting killed by Kid Flashes lazily swam through your mind.

You quickly looked away, wiping at your tears hurriedly. You shook your head roughly, wanting to rid yourself of the terrible memories.

"I... I-I can't. You know how I f-feel about Kid Flashes..."

You heard a heavy sigh sound next to you. Then, a comforting hand upon your shoulder.

"Yes, I do, (Y/N). But... We really do have to help it. We can't just let it die out here... It'll be grateful. If you decide to take it in, it'll be as loyal as I am, I promise. It won't hurt you. Please (Y/N)..."

You hesitantly turned back toward him. His pleading tone matched his expression as he looked at you expectantly.

Your gaze drifted from him to the injured Speedster, and back. ...He really seemed to want to help the hurt program... And, what could be the worst that'd happen...?

Bart seemed to notice the way your set jaw relaxed, for he smiled faintly, taking his hand off your shoulder. "That's the spirit. Now, come on and help me pick this guy up. He doesn't have a case like I do, so we gotta carry him..."

He carefully slid the Kid Flash's upper body onto his back, while you went to go grab its lower half. "Oh, and be careful, I heard they're pretty heavy."

As you got a firm grip on the program, you came to notice that yes, indeed, the Kid Flash was pretty darn heavy.

You felt the need to hiss out an irritated, "No shit, Sherlocks," but found yourself unable to due to your lack of breath.

However, whether it was the speedster's weight or your terror for it that had robbed you of air, you had no clue.