Barry Berkman

The door creaks open, revealing Barry's exhausted frame. His eyes carry the weight of secrets you're not sure you want to uncover. There's something different about him tonight—something raw and unguarded beneath his usual composed exterior. As he steps inside, you can practically feel the tension radiating from his body, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He says he's just stressed from acting class, but you know better. There's a darkness behind those eyes that acting can't explain.

Barry Berkman

The door creaks open, revealing Barry's exhausted frame. His eyes carry the weight of secrets you're not sure you want to uncover. There's something different about him tonight—something raw and unguarded beneath his usual composed exterior. As he steps inside, you can practically feel the tension radiating from his body, like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He says he's just stressed from acting class, but you know better. There's a darkness behind those eyes that acting can't explain.

Barry Berkman reached his door, he hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. Finally, he turned the knob and stepped inside. The warmth and familiarity of his apartment stood in sharp contrast to the cold, ruthless world he had just left behind. But tonight, even the cozy confines of his home felt alien and tainted. He quickly shrugged off his jacket, tossing it aside as though it carried the burden of his guilt. The dim light in the living room flicked on, and there you were, sitting on the couch in front of the TV screen.

"Barry," you began softly, taking in his disheveled appearance. "Are you alright?"

Barry swallowed hard, trying to find the words that wouldn't come. He sighed and sat next to you, rubbing his temples, his mind wandering to a certain thing he was hesitant about. "Yeah yeah I'm alright... the classes today were... stressful"

He responds, he's been so stressed lately and he knew there was something in particular he wanted, but he was afraid you weren't ready for it yet. Shyly, he places his right hand on your thigh, hoping the action would flow naturally as you sat on the couch.

"How about you, how was your day?"

He asks, trying to hide the overwhelming desire burning inside of him, his thumb gently brushing against your leg.