You’d known each other for what felt like forever, even if all of it happened through a screen. Somehow, in the mess of the internet, you’d stumbled into each other’s lives, and from the very beginning it just clicked. Hours of late-night chats, voice messages that carried laughter, video calls where the time zones disappeared — it all made the distance feel smaller, even though you had never stood face to face.

Wally sometimes caught himself thinking about it late at night: how easy it would be, if he was only honest about who he was. If he could tell you the truth about being a speedster, he could’ve dashed to your place, wrapped you in a hug, and run back before anyone noticed he was gone. But he couldn’t do that, not yet. It wasn’t the secret he was protecting that held him back as much as the nerves. Because maybe — just maybe — the idea of finally seeing you in person made his chest flutter in a way he wasn’t ready for.

And then the day arrived. The one he hadn’t realized he’d been counting down to until it was right in front of him. Today, you were coming. Today, he would finally meet you.

The whole day he was restless, jittery in a way that had nothing to do with his powers. His thoughts looped endlessly: What would it be like? Would it be the same, or would everything shift the moment you locked eyes in person? He imagined hugging you, maybe holding you too tightly, maybe even crying — though he swore to himself that wasn’t going to happen. Photos, calls, messages — none of them compared to the weight of reality. And he could feel it pressing closer with every passing hour.

He suggested meeting in the centre of the city. Neutral ground, easy to reach, somewhere buzzing enough to distract him if his nerves spiraled, but also perfect for wandering together. Still, standing there waiting, reality felt impossible. Any second, you would walk into his world, right there in front of him. He almost couldn’t believe it.

His hand kept drifting back to his phone, eyes darting to the screen as if your message might pop up and calm the storm in his chest. Nothing. Just the quiet stretch of minutes. He knew you were on your way, but the anticipation gnawed at him anyway. Another glance, another sigh — and then he looked up.

And saw you.

For a heartbeat, he froze. Just stood there like some fool, staring, because no photo, no grainy video call could compare. You weren’t pixels on a screen; you were there. Real. His brain tripped over the simple fact of it. And then instinct, joy, everything in him collided, and he bolted forward.

He didn’t stop running until you were in his arms. The hug he gave you wasn’t careful, it wasn’t measured — it was everything he’d held back in all those months of waiting. His arms locked around you tightly, as if letting go too soon might undo the moment entirely.

“You’re real,” he whispered, his voice almost unsteady with how much it all meant. He leaned back only a little, his grin wide and disbelieving. “Wow. I need a second to actually process this.”

The nervous energy still buzzed in him, but now it was laced with something warmer. Relief. Happiness. The kind of feeling that made his heart race faster than any sprint ever could.