I hate you because you are in every fiber of my soul

Face to face they were, the Flash Barry Allen and its Reverse, Eobard Thawne. No more lies, no more illusions of friendship, no more Harrison Wells. They were what they were, enemies.

Eobard could still see the hurt of betrayal in Barry's eyes, the remaining affection, albeit broken, lingering on those blue fierce orbs, the confusion in dealing with both, love and hate.

He knew better though. If there was one thing Eobard learned about his nemesis during all these years of infinite battleship was that Barry Allen was unable to hate. Even his mother's killer, himself.

That Barry loved him to the core and that such love was now broken yet not touched by hatred Eobard was sure.

Yet, it did not bring any regrets into his heart. The Flash was the end to everything, his world included, and he, Reverse Flash, was the real hero who was going to save the world. By ending the Flash.

It was not about personal feelings, his agenda was simply like that, it was about killing the Flash, saving the future and getting back home. Done.

Or so Eobard tried hard to believe. Because Barry Allen had another talent, besides being unable to hate. Oh, he had.

Barry touched deeply every soul that he connected with, and Harrison Wells had been not an exception to that, wanted him or not.

He felt infected, sick to the core with the feelings that Barry Allen brought to his heart. Not like the Bart imp, no, he could deal with that one, and he had been so sure Barry would be the same.

Eobard had never been so mistaken. The to-be Flash of his time, his actual nemesis, was nothing like his predecessor.

Barry was the very source of goodness, courage, love and light. He could irradiate those like the sun bathed everything, irresistibly affecting your roots even before you knew it was happening. His pure heart and innocent trust in everyone infected Eobard like a disease.

In every fiber of his soul there was a piece of Barry Allen. In his mind, in his dreams, in his everyday schemes, in his every moment, everything during these last 15 years consisted of an infection called Barry Allen.

He hated the boy for that, for being the integrity he was, the light to his darkness, and yet never being enough to make him forget the future and his home. And Eobard wanted so badly to go back home; at the same time he wanted so badly that it was all a lunatic fantasy of his mind and he could be still Harrison Wells, the good guy that he knew Barry still loved, somehow.

Because despite so much hate and besides his mission, besides the bloodshed and tears that were to come, he loved Barry Allen.

And that was why Barry Allen had to die.