Chapter 64 – "Just Shut Up and Hug Me"
In the Cortex of S.T.A.R. Labs, all screens had frozen.
Not because of a system crash, not because of some metahuman invasion—but because of Dante. Specifically, a video of Dante—the janitor—singing like a broken-hearted Greek god with a mop for a microphone.
Cisco sat dead center on the rolling chair, eyes glued to the loop playing again for the hundredth time.
Caitlin was leaning forward, elbows on her knees, mouth slightly open.
Even Wells—stoic, calculating, emotionally constipated Wells—had one hand over his mouth in stunned silence, like he just witnessed someone solve quantum gravity using jazz.
"Play it again," Caitlin said.
Cisco didn't even respond. He just clicked.
"All day, every day…" Dante's voice came through the speakers again, rich and full of sorrow, the lyrics slicing through the quiet room like poetry dipped in fire.
Cisco sniffled. "Okay but seriously, how is this guy not in a recording studio right now? Like… like WHY are we wasting this voice cleaning biohazards and fighting monsters "
Caitlin wiped under her eye. "I don't even know how to feel. I thought I was dead inside."
Wells crossed his arms. "He's clearly not just a janitor."
Cisco whispered, "He's a broken angel disguised as a mop-wielding menace."
Right then, the man himself walked in.
Dante, earbuds in, holding a coffee like he was completely unaware that his voice was now unofficially the national anthem of emotionally repressed TikTok teens.
He blinked.
Paused.
And stared at the video on the screen.
His face dropped.
He ran across the room like someone just posted his eighth-grade talent show performance and slammed the keyboard, cutting the sound mid-note.
"Come on, guys!" he groaned. "Seriously?"
Cisco slowly rolled up to him on his chair.
Then—without saying a word—he got up…
…and hugged him.
A full-on, arms-wrapped, eyes-closed, emotional-hug.
Dante stood frozen. His arms didn't move.
Cisco whispered, voice choked, "Man, I'm so happy I'm your friend. You are… just shut up and hug me back."
Dante stared at him like someone had just proposed marriage in a Waffle House.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
Caitlin snorted.
Wells actually chuckled—chuckled, like a human.
Cisco didn't let go. "Your voice—it hit my soul, man. Like, I didn't know whether to cry or throw my wallet at you."
Dante finally, gently, pushed him off.
The Void Force shimmered across his skin like warning sparks. "Touch me again and I'll kill you."
Cisco backed up with his hands raised. "Worth it."
Dante looked at everyone. "Why are you all acting like I just cured cancer with my vocal cords?"
Wells leaned forward. "You sang with the kind of pain people spend their whole lives trying to fake on reality TV."
"Yeah," Caitlin added. "It wasn't just good. It was real. You meant every word."
Dante looked away, scratching the back of his neck. "It was just a moment. I didn't even know Patty was recording. I was just… being stupid. Letting off steam."
Cisco held up his phone. "Yeah well, twelve million views later, your 'stupid moment' made half the internet cry in a Taco Bell parking lot."
Dante groaned. "Oh my God."
"You're famous now," Caitlin teased. "You've officially out-sang Barry's karaoke attempts."
Dante shot her a look. "That's not a high bar."
Cisco chimed in, "Actually, you kind of sound like Hozier had a heartbreak during a thunderstorm."
Wells nodded. "I was thinking more 'if sadness had a Spotify playlist and it starred Dante.'"
Dante held up his hands. "Okay, okay! Enough. Look—I don't sing, alright? It's not what I do."
"But why not?" Caitlin asked, honestly confused. "You're amazing."
He sighed and sat down on one of the lab stools, rubbing his eyes.
"It's not who I am anymore. Before the first coma… before everything… yeah, I sang. I wanted to make music. But now?" He looked at his hands. "Now I clean blood off floors and pretend I'm not a glitch in time."
Cisco lowered his phone. "That glitch saved our lives. Like, multiple times."
"You're more than you think you are," Caitlin added softly.
Wells walked over, his voice calm but firm. "Dante, whether you like it or not, the world just saw a piece of your soul. And they loved it. That means something."
Dante didn't answer.
His silence said enough.
Cisco tried again, gentler this time. "Look, I know what it's like to bury stuff you love. Pretend you don't care anymore. But sometimes… sometimes you need to let yourself be seen. Really seen."
Dante chuckled bitterly. "That's the problem. When people see me, they don't know what they're looking at. Time anomaly? Void force freak? Depressed janitor with hidden pipes? Doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."
Caitlin walked over, put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"To us, you're just Dante. Our friend. Our moody, sarcastic, mop-wielding friend with the voice of a tormented angel."
Dante looked up, and something cracked in his expression. The tiniest smile.
"You guys are really bad at letting things go."
"Yep," Cisco grinned. "We're team 'emotionally attached to found family.' Get used to it."
Just then, Barry zipped into the Cortex.
"Hey! What's up—"
He paused. "Why is Dante emotionally cornered and Wells smiling?"
Caitlin smiled. "You missed it. Cisco hugged him."
Barry's jaw dropped. "You hugged Dante?"
"Shut up," Dante muttered, standing and heading toward the door. "I'm going to mop the east wing. And if I hear one more person quote my own lyrics back to me, I will void-force launch you into next week."
As he left, Cisco called after him, "Love you, bro!"
"Go hug a wall!" Dante shouted back.
Caitlin laughed so hard she almost fell off her chair.
Wells returned to his desk, murmuring, "I give it two days before Rolling Stone emails him."
Barry turned to Cisco. "Okay. Tell me everything."
Cisco smiled. "Play the video. Then buckle up."
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