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Barty sits on the cold floor, running his thumb over his lower lip, licking the blood off his finger as he tries to stop it from flowing.
“Told you to stop chewing on your lip.”-Evan murmurs, watching him from the corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s smiling, and it’s warm and familiar. Barty feels his lips crack again, the blood metallic and warm on his tongue, as he smiles up at Evan.
“You came back,”-he whispers, his fingers reaching for his boy.
“God, I missed you so much. You were gone for so long. I’m sorry I couldn’t- I missed you- I’m sorry-“-he broke off abruptly, curling in on himself, his legs pulled up to his chest as he started rocking. He felt Evan’s warmth around him and let out a sob of relief.
“I can feel you. Oh, thank God, I thought you left for good.”-Barty looks back up, his eyes welling up with tears, clutching at Evan, who shushes him gently and hugs him.
“Barty, you have to stop doing this to yourself.”-Evan whispers against Barty’s hair, still holding him tightly. His warm breath caresses Barty’s scalp, so tangible and real. Barty cries harder.
“I tried, Evan, I tried so hard. I took my meds. It- I- I couldn’t remember your eyes. The colour of your pretty eyes. I needed to see you. I’m so sorry, I keep disappointing you.”-Barty pulls back, trying to see Evan’s face through the blur of tears, and a gasp rips deep from his chest as he sees Evan’s eyes.
Colourless eyes. He looks blind, a soft, milky fog covering those-brown? green? blue?-eyes Barty loves so much, and yet he can’t remember them. He can feel his heart snapping clean in two all over again as he gazes into the creamy mist in front of him. What was it all for? What was the point of stopping his meds if he can’t see his favourite eyes ever again?
He was doing so well. Evan gives him a small, sad smile, and Barty feels those familiar warm hands frame his face. At least he still remembers those. Hot tears stream down his cheeks and bunch up against Evan’s hands as he stares and desperately tries to recall his favourite colour. It doesn’t return, and Evan’s eyes stay sad and foggy and Disappointed. Barty swallows down an apology, and it rubs his throat raw as it goes down. He knows this isn’t real, none of this is. He knows it won’t do any good for him, because Evan is dead.
He’s dead, and he’s not actually coming back unless Barty stops taking his meds. The thought makes Barty bite through his lip again, and he blinks away the bluriness in his eyes as the familiar taste of metal floods his mouth all over again. It’s only then that he realises he’s alone in the room. Evan left again. He couldn’t even stay as Barty’s hallucination, just as a figment of his imagination. Barty cries again, his legs pulled up to his chest as he rocks back and forth on the floor of the while, padded room and Evan’s warm touch isn’t there to calm him down anymore. Barty’s alone, and he’s cold, and he knows Evan is never coming back. Not for a while, at least. Because as the nurse rushes in with a syringe, Barty knows he won’t be able to get out of his meds until the doctors start trusting him again. Maybe it’s for the best, really. Barty doesn’t want to know what else he forgot about his Evan.