Cross-posted on Ao3

To understand what I'm about to tell you, you have to do something first: You need to believe that people may change many things about themselves but they can never really change who they are at heart.

Can you do that?

Good.

See that guy walking on the sidewalk? That's me.

Why am I walking alone down a deserted street at eleven thirty at night? Because I was just at a bar and decided I needed to cool off a bit.

(Yes, I'm in high school. I didn't make many good life choices back then.)

My name is Barry Allen.

(Well, kind of. We'll get to that later.)

My story starts out simple: My whole life I've been running. Mostly from bullies. Sometimes I escaped; sometimes I did not. Usually it was because I wouldn't let them mess with the other kids. I told my mother once that I wasn't fast enough, but she told me that it was better to have a good heart than fast legs. (I wish I had followed that advice.)

I had a good life. A normal life.

But after that night I was running from something else entirely.

My mother died.

She was killed by a man inside lightning. I was there; I saw him. But no one believed me. They thought my father did it. He was arrested and sentenced to life in Iron Heights prison. I stayed with Detective Joe West and his daughter Iris, and for a while that was okay even if I didn't like it much. The bullying got worse though. I was the kid with the dad who was in prison for murder, and that didn't make anyone want to hang out with me. Even the kids I used to help stayed well away. The only one who didn't avoid me was Iris.

Then about two months after it happened I ended up in the hospital because the bullies went too far. Joe decided it wasn't safe for me at that school anymore. That was when my uncle Daniel and aunt Taylor offered to adopt me.

I didn't want to go; my dad was here and even though he wasn't with me I could still see him every week. But they decided it would be better for me to get away from Central City for a while. My dad agreed.

So that's how I ended up living with my aunt and uncle.

In Paris.

Did I mention that my uncle owns Smythe Industries an international multi-million dollar company?

No?

He does.

Anyway, when I moved I had to get all new papers so I asked, that since I was getting a new last name, if I could change my first name too. (Told you we'd get to it.)

I wanted to be called Sebastian.

It's what my mother wanted to name me.

Sebastian Smythe.

I thought it had a nice ring to it.

When I moved to Paris I had a new name; a new start. So I decided that I wasn't going to let anyone hurt me anymore. I made a few friends but not many, I didn't let just anyone get close to me anymore. I was more careful. Guarded. I learned to speak French fluently, joined the school choir, and picked up lacrosse (which I was surprisingly good at considering my less than amazing gym scores at my previous school).

I also learned how to use my words, both as defense and to attack, so that no one messed with me.

I earned a reputation.

And then we moved again.

To Ohio.

From Paris.

Talk about culture shock.

My parents (at this point I had gotten used to calling them that) signed me up to go to Dalton Academy, where I quickly regained my reputation as someone not to mess with.

So that's where this story starts.

With me walking down a deserted street at half to midnight on a Friday, not knowing that I was heading straight towards an encounter that would change my life forever.