Wally feels like he should be better than this. Scratch that. He knows he should be better than this.

This, being the fact that he’s currently lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. As if he’s expecting it to materialize the answer to every question he has in his life.

A guy can have time to mope. But moping isn’t exactly a guilt-free activity, and Wally is very aware that the time and energy he’s wasting can be used for something much more productive.

He’s someone who can run faster than sound. Yet, at the same time, he’s also the same sad lump of someone, currently hung up over an incredibly confusing situationship.

“Life is a soup, and I’m just a fork,” he mumbles out loud before his self-awareness kicks in, and now he’s groaning into a pillow, embarrassed at himself. Fantastic.

But guilt can and will always be a hell of a motivator. And just as quickly as the feeling of mortification comes, his fingers are meticulously lacing up his shoes to go for a run.

Finally.

A more productive use of his time. No more moping or sad lumping. He’ll clear his head to mull over the situation, and the answer will come when the first step hits the pavement. Because Wally knows the answer already, and it doesn't need to arrive in a moment of enlightenment.

Romances at this age are supposed to be short and sweet. Fun, fast, all with the lifespan of a dying star. It’s better to appreciate the experience garnered along the way. Because asking for commitment at this age is just idiotic, and Wally’s no idiot despite what anyone else says.

Impulsive? Sure. Stupid? Nope.

He’s barely a step out the door until his phone buzzes with an incoming text, and his metaphorical Pavlovian dog leash yanks at his neck — Finding himself right back at the heels of his master where he belongs.

”Busy?”

F*ck.