Sleep had proven impossible well after Barry heard Clarissa and Dr. Snow leave. He'd felt a surprising wave of relief when they did, if only because it meant Len was okay. He was confident that neither woman would relent if Len required monitoring. Still, that only lasted a short while. More than once Barry had the urge to sneak down stairs to check on him, just to be sure, after everything aside from the creaking and sporadic thumps had fallen silent.

He'd been cured of that impulse after the first time he'd given in and as soon as he reached the top landing the down stairs shower turned on. Barry had frozen wondering if it was a coincidence or if Len had heard him moving around. While he was sorely tempted to go down anyway and at least remind the other man he wasn't to get his stitches wet, he was fairly certain that would only serve to incur his housemate's wrath. He'd quickly shuffled back to his room and stayed put after that.

Not long after he heard what he thought was Len's bedroom door open and close quietly, but before he could even decide whether or not to just bite the bullet and offer his apologies, he heard the front door then the revving of a motor cycle engine. It seemed to be coming from out by the street, and not the drive, but he knew Len was gone.

It made Barry feel so much worse because he felt as though he'd driven the man out of his own home, not to mention he had no idea how to fix this, or if he could fix it.

Barry wasn't exactly sure what Len was mad about. Getting smacked in the head with a hockey stick should have been a given, but Barry wasn't sure that was all it was. Len seemed to have been angrier, at first at least, that Barry could have been seriously hurt and or killed.

It could have easily been because Barry invaded his personal space. Dr. Snow, someone he seemed to know pretty well, hadn't even touched him during her examination, and here Barry was, someone he'd just met and not under the best of circumstances, invading his bubble.

At the time he hadn't really thought about it, because he'd just wanted to help, but that was around when it all seemed to go downhill. What if Len could tell Barry wanted to kiss him? That he probably would have if Jax hadn't shown up, which was concerning, because that wasn't like Barry at all.

Len was Adonis personified, and even if he had been flirting with him at the diner, which Barry very much doubted, especially now, maybe when he realized they lived together he decided it wasn't worth the hassle.

Maybe it hadn't been desire he'd seen in the other man's eyes after all. Someone like Len could have whoever he wanted at the drop of a dime. The way Jax had thrown out that Len had been smitten with him, Barry didn't think it had anything to do with him being a man, but with him being Barry.

That thought made his chest ache. There were so many possibilities, and regardless of which one it was, maybe it really was best for Len to throw him out.

On top of those miserable musing and bouncing back and forth between packing what little he'd brought in and going to a motel, Barry couldn't stop his skin from crawling. The natural creepiness of the house was getting to him. Intellectually Barry knew old houses creaked and not every bump in the night had supernatural origins, but the house felt haunted. Worse than that, every creak, bump, or thump now sent a wave of scorn through him, because it's what had been the catalyst for the whole disaster.

As dawn broke he found himself wondering whether or not Len only told Jax about the ghost, because Jax thought this place was haunted too. As though Len was attempting, in his own way, to make Barry feel better about his silliness. Letting him know, while Len thought he was being stupid, Barry wasn't alone in his ridiculousness.

That was where Barry drew the line, and forced himself out from under the covers. That kind of hope was dangerous, especially for Barry, who had the worst luck in love, or even like, if he was being real.

Forcing himself to get moving so as to distract himself proved easier than keeping occupied once he finally managed to get started. His thoughts never strayed far from Len for too long.

It was after 1030 by the time he finished the tasks he'd assigned himself, including cleaning the already clean kitchen, which had apparently been taken care of last night after he fled, which made him feel worse. He imagined Len cleaning up the mess once he was doctored, somehow sure he would insist on doing it himself. The blood stains in the hall and living room had been taken care of as well. In fact, everything seemed to be in order as far as he could tell.

What had taken so long was something he's struggled with even after it was done. Unloading the rest of his things and putting them away. Most of the night had been spent racked with guilt and flip flopping back and forth between just packing up and not even waiting for Len to ask him to leave, or waiting it out. Both choices were less than desirable.

Still, with lack of anything else to do, he thought unpacking would at least prevent Len from thinking he still expected his help, and while it was something he tried to ignore, a small part of him sort of hoped that if he was unpacked Len might hesitate to ask him to leave at all.

Not that he held much hope for the later.

It was a bit worrisome that despite everything that happened, along with the foreboding he'd been struck with at nearing his new home, not to mention being all but positive Len hated him, Barry didn't actually want to leave. Barry realized more than anything he wanted to make it up to Len somehow. That only seemed to increase his anxieties of their next encounter.

Eventually it had gotten to be too much, sitting in the creepy house all alone, worrying, waiting, with his anxiety mounting. Eventually he called to have the prescription transferred he'd forgotten to fill before he left to the local pharmacy, needing not only to get out and do something, but also pretty sure he was going to need it if he decided to stay. That he already needed it.

Moving was stressful enough when it was a smooth transition, and this, had been decidedly not smooth, so while he felt a little weak at having to rely on medication, but he reminded himself it was okay, and he wasn't to blame or chastise himself. It didn't help a whole lot. Though, sometimes it didn't help at all, so he counted that as a victory.

It was difficult when your illness was telling you, you were wrong, or it was all your fault, or even that there was nothing wrong at all, along with having people who just didn't understand throwing in their own two cents, it wasn't always easy to accept, even if it was intellectually rational to do so. Barry had been dealing with it long enough, since his mother was murdered, to be able to distinguish the difference between what he was feeling and thinking as compared to what he "knew", most of the time anyway, but it still didn't make it any easier.

It was like stress on top of stress.

As with most of what he'd seen of his new town the pharmacy wasn't far from his new home. It was sort of nice to know it wasn't going to be easy to get lost, which was good thing considering his sense of direction, but it also meant his distraction errand wasn't going to take as long as he hoped.

The pharmacy was 3 blocks over from the police station and hard to miss with the giant old fashioned sign that simply read "DRUGS" which made Barry smile for some reason. When he pulled open the door a bell chimed and even if the place wasn't small enough to see the pharmacy part in the back behind a half dozen shelves he would have had no trouble locating it quickly, because who he assumed was the pharmacist greeted him readily.

"Mr. Allen I presume," a handsome man with short brown hair smiled warmly at him.

"Um, yea," Barry replied a little nervously, still not used to the whole "everybody knows your name" thing. "I had a prescription transferred here… is it um, ready?"

"It is," the other man set down his book and maneuvered from behind the counter before motioning for Barry to follow him speaking over his shoulder as he led him towards the back. "I'm Rob, by the way."

"Hi, Rob," Barry said a little awkwardly wanting to introduce himself as well out of habit, but since this guy already knew who he was, he settled on a compliment of sorts. "I like your sign."

"The sign?" Rob laughed good naturedly lifting part of the counter so as to get behind it, old fashioned indeed, Barry thought somewhat fondly as Rob continued. "I'll have to tell my husband; he thinks we need to mix a little more "new" in with the "old" around here. Appeal to the masses as it were, so I thank you. I personally love it. It makes me smile, but ever since the diner was renovated last year he thinks we should all update things a bit." Rob turned and smiled at him over his shoulder as he continued to card through prescription bags. "He's the mayor, so he says it's his duty to look after the towns best interest, as though tourism would ever be a thing here."

Rob rolled his eyes, though with a fondness that made Barry return the smile.

"Ah, here we are," Rob said suddenly a bit triumphantly before standing again with a second bag Barry was sure wasn't his.

"Um, I only had one…" Barry trailed off a little confused as the little white bags were set on the counter before him and Rob turned away again rummaging through a bin.

"Yea, but Dr. Snow came in a bit ago and dropped that second one off," Barry tried to think of what the hell Dr. Snow would have prescribed him, but that mystery was solved as Rob continued. "Poor Len, silly man's been at work since well before dawn even after last night's fiasco. Stubborn ass that he is, someone's gotta take care of him."

Barry's face flushed brilliantly at Rob's words, and the idea that everyone knew what a dolt he was already delayed his questioning why this man was giving him Len's prescription.

"Clarissa was gonna come pick it up in a bit," Rob shook it head as he set a pill cutter on the counter, "but since you're here anyway, and from what I've heard you'll probably have better luck than anyone to get him to take it, it's probably best if you give it to him. Len doesn't let anyone take care of him, but takes care of everyone else. He needs someone like you in his life, ya know?"

Barry was speechless for a moment, because he had no idea what to even think about what Rob had just told him let alone how to respond to it. Whatever Rob heard about him and Len… well, he'd been misinformed, because he was positive Len hated him. Even with his surety, he blushed a deeper shade of red.

How did everyone else seem to see that opposite of what he did?

"I can't take someone else's prescription," Barry said instead after an extended moment of Rob smiling fondly at him in much the same way Clarissa had.

"Why not?"

"Because it's not mine," Barry replied, and had no idea how a pharmacist couldn't see that it wasn't a good idea to give him someone else's prescription, housemate or not.

Not that Barry would do anything with it aside from make sure Len got it, especially because he needed it, but Rob didn't know anything about Barry, aside, apparently, from the fact he'd attacked his roommate with a hockey stick.

"You gonna do anything with it besides give it to him?" Rob asked with a cocked eye brow.

"Well, no, but that's not the point," Barry replied. "You don't know me."

"I read your file," Rob informed him waving away his concerns. "David brought it home when Well's wanted to hire you, and I'm nosey." Rob didn't seem a bit sorry for invading his privacy. "Besides, I am spectacular at reading people, and from what I understand Len's in pretty bad shape, so the sooner he gets it the better, and seeing as how you had a huge part in all that… I figured you'd want to make it up to him."

Barry wasn't stupid he was well aware this man was using his guilt against him, but that didn't mean it didn't work. He was also aware it wasn't out of any kind of malice, so it made it hard to be mad about that, but he couldn't exactly hide his annoyance at the fact it felt like everyone was in on some big secret, but him.

"Clarissa said she's never seen him smile or laugh like that before, smitten was the word she'd used." Rob said a bit softer and his smile now looked somewhat sad. "He's not perfect by any means, but he's a good man, don't let him fool you into thinking he's not… or anyone else for that matter."

He wanted to ask him if all the gossiping was standard for a small town, or if in this particular town they were all just nosy like him, but he didn't, because suddenly that hope he'd been trying to squish down flared once again, along with anger at the memory of Grodd and Wells bias. Rob saw this and didn't wait to give Barry a chance to change his mind.

"That's the ticket," Rob said much happier ringing it all up, and bagging it before Barry, who was still very conflicted could change his mind.

Feeling a bit awkward, embarrassed and slightly steam rolled, Barry thanked Rob, after the man rattled off instructions for both prescriptions. Apparently Rob wasn't finished saying his piece, because as soon as his hand was on the door the other man called after him.

"Make him dinner," Rob lifted the counter to get out from behind it. "Even if you're not a spectacular cook, Len will appreciate the gesture. It's how he shows he cares…"

Rob trailed off looking a bit sad again, and despite the feeling there was some sort of conspiracy, not exactly against him, but about him, Barry nodded. He really did want to make it up to Len. Rob's words made more sense when he thought about how Len's special Piecake recipe was something he created for his sister, and the fact he'd apologized with it. He hadn't exactly consciously made a decision so far as saying yes, I'm going to make dinner, or no, I'm not, but he was already wondering what exactly he could make well, that Len might like.

Barry clutched the little white bag with a white knuckled grip as he took a deep breath and pulled open the glass door of the diner not ten minutes later, which was much too soon as far as his nerves were concerned.

He hadn't planned on visiting the diner any time in the near future, not even for Piecake, but he couldn't come up with any reason that didn't send pangs of guilt through him not to bring Len his super Tylenol straight away. Besides not liking the idea of Len being in pain one iota, the fact that it was his fault left him with no real choice.

"Good morning," a young girl with dark brown hair said with a brilliant smile, which felt as false as her cheer. "Will you be breaking your fast alone, or are you waiting on someone."

Barry's stomach sort of dropped as he quickly glanced around searching for Clarissa, who'd he'd hoped to pass the bag off to. Sure, he wanted to make it up to Len, but he wasn't ready to see him yet, and in a public place none the less. What if Len was still furious with him, and yelled at him or something? No, he'd much rather have that happen in private.

"Um, neither," Barry managed when he looked back at the girl who was looking at him with an impatient cocked eyebrow. "Is Clarissa here?"

"Nope, boss gave her the day off."

"Oh," Barry swallowed hard unsure of what to do now.

His plan very much depended on Clarissa. Len's text popped into his head unbidden, "you can't plan for everything, though I certainly make an effort." Len was not something Barry ever though he'd have to plan for in his dizziest day dreams, for reasons he'd rather leave untouched for now.

"Anything I can help you with?"

"I, um," Barry tried to think of a way around having to see or talk to Len just yet, because he wasn't ready, but he was just as uncomfortable leaving Len's prescription with someone he didn't know as he was with taking it in the first place. "I, um, just need to drop these off for Len?"

"Then why'd you ask for Clarissa?" the girl asked with a glint in her eyes that was either suspicions or excited amusement.

Barry had never been very good at reading things like that, especially when he was wracked with nerves.

"Well, I, um, I didn't," Barry tried to think of any other reason besides the real one. "I figured he was busy, and I, um, I didn't want to bother him while he was working."

"You saying waitresses don't work hard?"

"What? No, I just," he flushed as he tried to back pedal not liking the way the girl's eyes narrowed in an oddly familiar way or the way she cocked her hip in a strangely defiant manner. "Of course not! I just, well, I…"

"Chill, Barry," the girl smirked apparently deciding she'd let him flounder enough. "Yea, I know who you are, everyone does, small town," she said noting his surprise. "I just wanted to see if you were as adorable as Bette said all flustered and blushing."

"That… that wasn't very nice," Barry replied after a moment, because it wasn't, but the pause was more so because he didn't like the idea of everyone knowing who he was when he didn't know who they were, and they were all apparently talking about him.

Not just him, but him and Len, at that.

"Happens," the girl shrugged, not waiting for a reply before turning away and heading straight for the kitchen door pushing it open. "Hey, Lenny, Wayne Gretzky's here to see you!"

Barry was positive the shade of red he turned at her words wasn't even on the spectrum as more than one set of eyes found him. He did his best to act normal and take a seat at the counter, though he spared the girl a glare as she flitted by smirking smugly.

It shouldn't have surprised him that it only made her smirk widened as she passed him by. It also left no doubt in his mind that, that had to be Lisa.

Before he could think on it too much, the kitchen door pushed open causing his heart to skip a beat before it began to race. Len's eyes found his immediately, and that pleasant shiver ran up his spine, though Len, despite his mask, looked somehow almost as uncertain as Barry felt. On top of it all, and while he didn't know how it was possible, even with the stitches and not so subtle bruising from where he'd clocked him, Len looked just as gorgeous as ever.

It stole the prepared words from his mouth and the air from his lungs.

Despite feeling several pairs of eyes on them as Len made his way over to where he was seated Barry mouth went dry and he couldn't force himself to speak for an extended moment. His anxiety spiked a bit more.

It didn't help that Len seemed to be more so unwilling, than unable as was Barry's case, to speak first. That more than anything reminded Barry that all this was his fault, and that he needed to try and make it right, even if Len still wanted to kick him out anyway. He had to try.

"Um," Barry started swallowing hard, before pushing the prescription bag towards Len, if only to buy an extra second. "I… I didn't really feel comfortable taking them, because they're not mine, obviously, but Rob insisted. So… once I had them I thought I'd bring them to you, just in case you needed them, which obviously you do. Thanks… thanks to me…"

Barry swallowed again forcing himself to keep his housemate's eyes. He knew he was rambling, but he also knew it was the only way he could get it all out.

"Which I am really, really sorry about, by the way. I know I told you already, but I don't think… well, I'm just so sorry, Len. I totally understand if you hate me. I don't blame you in the least, not that I want you to hate me though. I want you to like me," Barry's ears burned at realizing what he'd said, especially when the ghost of a smirk appeared on the other man's face. "Not, like me, like me, unless you want to, but I'd hoped we could at least be friends…"

Barry wanted to quite while he was behind. Trying to remedy his blabbering was only making it worse, but apparently his punishment for being, well, him was to embarrass himself whenever possible. Something sparkled in Len's eyes at his words, and even if he was embarrassed, the fact that his house mate's ghost of a smirk turned into what he thought might be a ghost of a smile, made it impossible.

He suddenly held real hope not all was lost.

"Oh, god," he took a deep breath trying to steady himself looking away hoping it would help, before he looked back up. His heart fluttered when he thought he saw Len fighting a smile, while watching him intently. It did nothing for his nerves. "I just said all that out loud, I do that sometimes. Not on purpose of course. I don't actually like embarrassing myself, though it's something I could win a gold medal for."

Barry wanted to ease any concerns Len might have about him. He'd been up all night thinking about them and how he would let Len know he didn't have to worry. This was far from ideal, but he wanted to get it all out while he had the chance. Still, he found himself looking down at his twiddling thumbs unable to meet Len's eyes as he continued.

"Anyway I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me, or anything." Barry's blush crept all the way down his chest as he forced himself to keep going though haltingly. "I… I mean, I know, well… we live together, and I know, well, I think you… last night when I was going to… when I was trying to help…" he faltered a bit, this hitting a bit closer to home than the rest.

The memory of telling Iris about how he felt popped into his head unbidden; being shot down, having to move, not wanting to move again… but he managed to continue, if only for another sentence.

"I promise, I won't… touch you or anything again, without asking, so you don't have to worry about that or… or me trying to… well you know."

Barry felt like he had more to say, or at least should apologize again. If not for last night, for this. Suddenly this felt like an awful idea, especially when the other man didn't reply right away, but he couldn't force himself to look up at him. He felt as though he'd somehow just made things worse than they were before. It was all he could do not to flee.

His heart was hammering in his chest instead of fluttering now, and he felt his palms start to sweat. This was probably the worst possible time for this. He hadn't wanted to take his medicine before he got home again, because it made him sleepy, and now he realized that was a mistake.

He wanted to offer to move out, despite not wanting to in the least, suddenly unsure as to whether he could actually handle Len asking him to, but he didn't trust himself to speak without sounding breathless, it all only made it worse.

Stress on top of stress, and as it usually did, which was the worst part, to hit him rather suddenly.

Just as his breathing became noticeably uneven without even hearing him speak, he felt fingertips under his chin, gently encouraging him to lift his head.

"Hey, look at me."

Len's voice was quiet, encouraging Barry to comply as the other man took his hand and pressed it against his chest.

"Breathe with me."

Barry's eyes widened a bit and darted away remembering there were people around, and they were watching them.

"Don't worry about them, focus on me."

Len ordered drawing Barry's eyes back to him.

"Deep even breathes."

Len encouraged, his voice gentle again as he maneuvered his fingers to grip Barry's chin so as to keep Barry to focus solely on him.

"Breath with me."

Len pressed Barry's hand a little firmer against his chest, signaling for Barry to concentrate on that, before he began to softly counting to 4, taking a deep breath in, and then to 6 as he released it.

"It's okay."

Len assured him as Barry's frustration showed when couldn't follow at first.

"Just keep trying it'll come. Stay focused on me and your breathing."

Barry did just that. He tried to mimic Len's deep even breathes, matching the rise and fall of the other man's chest as best he could. Len's eyes never left his as he continued to count and offer soft encouragements; never letting go, never giving him a chance to focus on anything else.

"That's it, just like that." Len encouraged when Barry's breathing finally evened out again, though now that he'd managed to stave off a major panic attack, which would have been much worse, he felt his face flush in embarrassment.

"Don't you dare," Len said firmly, his voice raising only slightly, though the hand cupping his chin remained as gentle as ever. "This isn't something you should be embarrassed about."

Barry was a little shocked that Len seemed to know what he was thinking before he could actually complete the thought, but nodded gratefully at the reminder. While, it was embarrassing, and he was definitely embarrassed, Barry was mostly grateful.

"Thank you," Barry said quietly once he felt he could speak again without a tremor.

Len offered him a small smile, and a nod. Barry was farther grateful when Len he found no trace of pity in Len's eyes. Sympathy, maybe, but no pity.

"I'm sorry," Barry said after a beat, because he was, not for the panic attack per se, but everything. "I really am."

"Not your fault," Len said straightening up as he'd leaned across the counter when he was talking Barry through his mini panic attack.

"That's not…"

"I know," Len cut him off gently, but didn't continue, at least not to him, instead he turned to the girl who had given him a hard time when he'd first come in who was glaring at a few people who quickly looked away when they'd noticed they'd been caught. "Sin, I'm taking off."

"We can handle it, Bette'll be here soon, anyway," Sin gave Len a thumbs up, and Barry decided despite her tricking him when he first came he, he like her when he found no pity in her eyes either, just understanding.

"You don't…" Barry said when he realized Len was cutting out of work because of him. "I'm okay, I don't want you to get in trouble."

"I won't, it's my day off," Len said unconcernedly. "Besides, I'm the boss, so I get to come and go when I please within reason, of course."

Just like that his gorgeous rude biker was back, well, at least his smirk anyway.

"Go get in the car," Len told him, his voice leaving no room for debate. "Let me get my things, and I'll take you home."

Barry wanted to argue, because he had come here to apologize and try and start to make things up to Len, not farther inconvenience him, but Len didn't give him a chance, before he turned away and headed through the kitchen door. He sat there staring at the swinging door as he had last night for a long moment. Suddenly very unsure as to his original assessment. There was a very good chance this could be heaven, or at least he had hope.