Chapter Text
If John was being honest, he’d have to admit that he was probably the least interesting teenage boy in all of Blue Valley, which was really saying something. His grades were average, with the exception of chemistry where he excelled. He didn’t really have any friends, but he wasn’t an outcast or anything. His foster parents and siblings seemed to have little interest in him, and the feeling was mutual. He didn’t have any big life ambitions. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to do after he graduated in the spring. He had this strong sense that he was supposed to be someplace else, doing something else, but every small town boy felt like that, right? The only thing of note about him was probably his bright red hair.
All of this added up to a very dull picture, which was why it was especially weird that the new guy in his econ class kept staring at him. Maybe he just hadn’t realized how boring John was yet? Or maybe he just had a thing for redheads? Either way, he wasn’t unhappy with the attention, just not optimistic about it lasting long.
When the bell rang John lost himself in the flood of students heading down to the cafeteria for lunch, resigning himself to an hour alone with the small meal that his foster mom had prepared for him. She wasn’t starving him or anything, the portion size was reasonable enough that the other kids were all satisfied, but John always felt a lingering hunger after each meal. He didn’t have the cash to buy snacks for himself, and he definitely didn’t want to ask more of the foster parents who had generously agreed to house him until he graduated, even after he’d turned 18. He did his best to content himself with what he had and keep the hangriness to a minimum.
Five minutes into the period he had already demolished his food and pulled out a notebook to doodle in. He was so focused on adding little lightning bolts to his sketch that he almost didn’t see the lightly tanned hand sliding a protein bar along the table towards him. John startled upright and locked eyes with that new guy from econ class who was somehow across from him.
“Holy shit, when did you get there? Are you some kind of ninja or something?”
The guy’s mouth quirked up in a dangerous smirk that promised he knew lots of things that John didn’t. “Something. You’re… John, right?” His tone made it clear that he knew the answer before he asked the question, although the pause before his name was strange.
“Yeah. And you’re…” At this point John realized that he’d spaced out when the guy was introducing himself to the class and didn’t even sort of know what his name was. “...in my econ class.” He cringed at his own awkwardness. This is why he had no friends, and why he didn’t talk to cute boys.
The guy’s pretty blue eyes twinkled as he laughed lightly. “Rick. Rick Gray.”
“Really? That doesn’t seem like it fits you.” John spoke and then realized what a rude thing that was to say to a total stranger and blushed violently.
Rick threw his head back and laughed. Or cackled really. It was actually a kinda creepy sound, sending a shiver down John’s spine, but also filling him with an out of place sense of familiarity and fondness. “Bold words coming from someone named John Smith.”
“Yeah, yeah. The firefighters who found me on their doorstep weren’t the most creative.”
“Wow. Quite the tragic backstory you have there.” The dry tone and dismissive attitude should have made John angry, but for some reason it didn’t. Instead, he just rolled his eyes and moved past it.
“So if I’m not a John Smith, who am I?”
He had meant it as a joke and a continuation of the weird but comfortable banter they had established, but Rick’s face shifted into a serious mask as he made intense eye contact and replied, “Wally West.”
And something very fragile in John’s mind shattered.
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John had some concerns. And a whole lot of questions.
When he finally managed to scrape his jaw off the floor, he’d given Rick a semi hysterical laugh, mumbled something mildly coherent about alliterative names sounding like comic book characters, and sprinted out of the cafeteria much faster than was wise without his inhaler on hand. He just had to get away from that conversation and find some space to process whatever the hell was going on in his head. He sat at a table in the back corner of the library, bouncing his leg rapidly, and munching on the protein bar that he hadn’t even realized he’d grabbed.
Wally West.
Why did that name mean something to him? What did that name mean to him? It was definitely familiar but he couldn’t place it. He was pretty sure he’d never met a Wally before. Maybe he was someone famous? He slipped his phone out of his pocket and googled the name. Results for facebook pages and linkedin profiles from men of varying ages from around the country, but none of the guys in the photos were familiar.
He growled in frustration and went to take another bite of the protein bar before he realized he’s already stress-eaten the whole thing and was left holding the empty wrapper. At this point he noticed that he actually felt full. This was the first time that's happened since… well it was the first time he could ever remember it happening. Just another weird thing to throw on the pile of weird things going on.
He dropped his head to the table and pinched his eyes shut. Ever since Rick had said that name his thought had become a nonstop blur of images and other sensory memories that he had been trying desperately to shut out, feeling like he was going crazy. Maybe giving into it would give him some answers?
The flood of thoughts and feelings (almost like real memories?) was completely overwhelming. He didn’t stand a chance at taking in all of it, but there were a couple very clear standouts:
A blur of bright red and an enthusiastic call of “Hey Kid!”
The rush of wind through his hair and lightning through his veins.
A younger boy, maybe 10 or 11, peeling off some sort of mask to reveal bright blue eyes, and holding out a hand for a shake, “Hi I’m Dick. I think you and I could be really great friends.”
Before he could dwell on the significance of any of that, the bell rang for his next class.
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John didn’t even try to concentrate in his classes for the rest of the day. He just kept doodling on his notes and turning his thoughts over in his mind.
He couldn’t help but notice that “Dick” from the memory or whatever bore a striking resemblance to Rick. Like, almost exactly how he imagined Rick would look 6 or 7 years younger. So if Rick was “Dick” then at least some of the mess floating around in his brain had to be real. And if some of it was real, was all of it real? And if it was real, what wasn’t? If these were memories that he’d suppressed or something, then they didn’t line up with what he knew of reality at all. Nothing made sense and it was giving him the mother of all headaches.
He was only pulled out of his racing thoughts when the girl sitting behind him poked him in the back of the head with a stack of papers, alerting him to the teacher’s request that they turn in their homework. He quickly scrawled his name across his paper, added it to the stack, and passed it forward. He was about to dive back into his internal chaos when an idea occurred to him.
At the top of his notebook page he wrote his name once again:
John Smith
And with some trepidation he wrote below it:
Wally West
He couldn’t help but notice that the latter felt much more well practiced and natural than the former. As he let that sink in his eyes drifted further down the page, idly noting the small flock of birds that had taken flight among his usual lightning bolt doodles. Robins.
Yeah, no. He had officially hit his limit. He was turning his brain off for the rest of the day.
He drifted down the hall to his study hall in a total fog until the sight waiting for him inside the classroom shocked him back into the moment. Rick (Dick?) was sitting in the back corner, staring straight at him with those pretty blue eyes. That gorgeous dangerous smirk curled his lips again. Rick winked and gestured to the desk beside him.
Well. Time to maybe get some answers. Or maybe just more questions.