The lab had never felt so suffocating before. Blueprints crumpled on the floor, and that blasted weapon—mocking you with its refusal to cooperate. It should’ve been simple. But nothing was working. It had been hours. Cisco was off handling god knows what, and for some reason, you thought, I’ve got this.

But you didn’t have it. Not even close.

Every failed attempt chipped away at your composure, frustration bubbling under the surface until it started to spill over. You adjusted another screw, only for the weapon to spark and fizzle out again. That was the last straw.

Enough.

You stormed out of the lab, ignoring the way your vision blurred and your chest tightened. You needed space. Somewhere no one would find you.

The pipeline.

The meta-cell door hissed as it shut. The silence was deafening. You sank to the floor, knees pulled up to your chest, the cold metal wall pressing against your back.

Damn it.

Minutes blurred together until the faint sound of footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. You froze, instinctively wiping at your face again as the cell door slid open.

There he was.

Harrison Wells. Earth-2’s grumpiest, snarkiest genius.

“Figured I’d find you here,” he said softly, stepping into the cell. “You weren’t exactly subtle about storming off.”

You scoffed, looking away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Good thing I didn’t say anything about talking.”

Before you could protest, he sat down beside you. Not too close, his presence felt grounding. His hand reached out, hesitated for half a second. You blinked in surprise as he leaned forward and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead.

He pulled back, his arm sliding around your shoulders as he settled into a comfortable side hug. “Alright,” he said after a beat of silence. “What went wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing.’ I know that look on your face. It’s the same one I get when I’m ready to set fire to my lab notes.”