Ryan didn't leave his room for three days. He laid in bed, going between sleep and consciousness. He had felt overwhelmed by exhaustion that, even when he did find himself awake, he couldn't bring himself to leave his bed.

He didn't feel sick, just tired. His dreams seemed endless, pulling him through what seemed like real life events until he opened his eyes.

"Ryan?"

With all the strength he could muster, Ryan pushed himself up on his arms. He looked to the door to find it being gently pushed open by Patrick, who had concern written on his face.

"Hey." He stood nervously in the doorway, holding the door a quarter of the way open. "Sorry, I just wanted to check up on you. Haven't seen you in a few days. Are you feeling okay?"

Ryan shifted on the bed, rubbing an eye with one hand while keeping himself propped up on the other. "Yeah..." His voice was croaky from its lack of use. He cleared his throat and repeated the word, only sounding slightly better.

Patrick bit his lip. "Have you eaten?" When Ryan didn't respond, Patrick pushed the door open a bit more. "Are you hungry? Pete's grabbing Taco Bell."

Ryan looked down at his bedding. He hated the worry on Patrick's face. He wore it more and more when he looked at Ryan. Worry and pity.

The mattress sink beside him. He looked back up to see Patrick next to him. He placed a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "He can grab you a freeze too." Patrick offered, "You up for it?"

Ryan's stomach growled in response. He scrunched his eyes shut. His body had betrayed him. Patrick mentioning food seemed to bring its necessity back to him. His stomach growled again, louder than before.

"I'll tell him to add you to the order." Patrick's voice was soft as he gently squeezed Ryan's shoulder.

"Thanks..." Ryan muttered, not wanting to open his eyes. He didn't want to see the way Patrick looked at him.

"We're here for you, Ry." Patrick spoke again, "Please don't forget that." The hand pulled away from Ryan's shoulder and the additional weight lifted from Ryan's mattress. "I'll come get you when Pete's back."

Ryan said nothing as Patrick moved across his room. His expression didn't even relax until he heard the click of the door shutting again. He opened his eyes and looked towards it. He didn't deserve to have someone like Patrick trying to look out for him like this when he did nothing in return. He should be left to waste away after not leaving his bed for three days.

Ryan put his face in his hands. What was wrong with him? He used to be so much better. He used to crack jokes and laugh more...

Ryan lifted his head. He was fine before Him.

Ryan climbed out of bed, staggering on his feet but maintaining balance enough to remain standing. He inhaled a deep breath before moving across his room and opening the door.

The hall was empty as he made his way to the bathroom. Once in the pale blue room, he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

He looked slightly thinner and paler. His cheeks weren't as full as they usually were. The bags under his eyes were dark, despite all of the sleep that had overwhelmed him over the past few days.

Ryan pushed a hand through his hair. He didn't know what to think or do. Was he losing himself? Had he really let what happened affect him so bad that he was becoming someone else?

Ryan turned away from his reflection. He stripped his clothes and turned on the shower, running a hand under the stream as the water grew hot. Once it was steaming, Ryan reached to take off the cording that hung from his neck, but stopped. The key was a comforting weight on his chest. His fingers brushed against the cool metal. Surely a bit of water wouldn't hurt it.

He left it around his neck as he climbed into the shower.

The water was refreshing. For the first time in days he actually felt awake and alert. The steam rolled through the air like fog, swirling faster when Ryan blew at it. It actually made him smile.

He wasn't sure how long of a shower he took but, eventually, he switched the valve to off once the heat began to shift toward ice. He jumped out of the shower, burying his toes in the springy bath mat that waited just beyond the shower for him. He grabbed the red towel from the rack and wrapped it around his lower body.

He felt energized, which was weird compared to how he had felt just waking up not long before. He struggled with consciousness for three days, yet now he actually felt like he had been decently rested.

He pushed a hand through his soaking hair, pushing it out of his face. His emotions were so up and down, but right now felt like an up for some reason.

He tossed his clothes into his bathroom hamper before slipping out of the bathroom and back to his bedroom. He threw on a pair of faded floral shorts and a low cut tank top he was given as a joke. The best part of the joke was probably how comfortable the clothing item was.

Once dressed, Ryan took a deep breath. He couldn't explain his mood shift, but he wanted to enjoy it before it went downhill again. He avoided looking at as much of his room as possible, only focusing on his small dresser beside his bed and then the floor where his towel had landed as he changed. He hooked the towel with his foot to lift it to his hand before quickly exiting the room. He dropped his towel in the bathroom basket before continuing to the shared space of the living room.

Patrick sat on the couch by himself, one leg crossed under the other that dangled over the couch. He was writing something down in a small notebook, but stopped to look up. He smiled, "Hey, Ry. Pete just left for food. It shouldn't be too long."

"Cool." Ryan nodded. He made his way over to the couch and sat on its opposite side.

Patrick set his notebook down on the small table in front of them. "You seem different." He commented.

"I'm actually awake." Ryan replied, stretching.

"That might be it." Patrick laughed. He looked him over, but stopped at his chest. "What's that?"

Ryan looked down. The tanktop he wore was so low cut that it exposed most of the key. Its left eye was practically a beacon begging for attention with how much it stood out. "Oh. It's nothing... Just something I found in the closet."

"Since when are skulls your thing?" Patrick asked. Ryan knew Patrick didn't mean for his tone to come off wrong,  but something about the way he said it made Ryan frown. There was a light bounce to it, almost as if it was a teasing question. Ryan didn't understand why it stole the smile from his face.

Ryan shrugged. "I'm just trying a new style."

Patrick raised a brow. "Really, Mr. Floral shorts paired with matching underwear?"

"Hey!" This time, the tease brought a laugh from Ryan. "We agreed to never discuss that!" He laughed again, though his brow furrowed as he did. He felt weird, switching so swiftly between emotions.

Patrick held his hands up. "Sorry." He laughed. He paused, not looking in Ryan's direction. He looked like he wanted to say something, but held himself back. "It doesn't look bad." He finally spoke, turning to look at the key around Ryan's neck. "The red eyes are just a bit spookier than your non-halloween fashion."

"You mean eye." Ryan corrected, reaching up to hold the neck of the key. "That's what sort of drew me to it."

Patrick tilted his head. "No, eyes. One is a lot darker than the other, but both are red." He pointed to the key, "Look."

Ryan looked down, but the angle didn't allow for a clear view of the deep sockets in the skull. He lifted the cord from around his neck, shivering at the instant chill that engulfed him, and held the key in front of him. His mouth fell open when he saw that Patrick was right.

The left eye was just as vibrant as the first day he lad uncovered it. The right eye, which had been dark before, was now a red tone that looked as if it wanted to match the other.

The key dropped from Ryan's hand. The cord, however has hooked itself on Ryan's wrist. It held the key in the air as Ryan stared at it.

"Ryan?" Patrick's voice sounded far away. "Ryan?"

Ryan couldn't stop staring at the key that dangled from his wrist, spinning slowly. Had he just looked at it wrong the first time he saw it? Did the distress of the photo make him only see the one eye when both shared the deepening color? Did three days between dream and reality alter his memory of it?

"Ryan!"

Patrick was right in front of him. There was a mixture of concern and fear in his eyes as he looked at Ryan. His arms were up like he wanted to reach out, but held back.

A wetness trailed down Ryan's cheek. He reached for it with the hand that didn't have the key dangling. It was a tear. He wasn't sure when, but he had started crying.

"Ryan, where specifically is the key from?" Patrick asked quietly.

"A box." Ryan answered, weakly. He shook his wrist, getting the cord and key to drop to the ground. The air around him seemed even colder now.

Patrick reached out and wiped tears away from one side of Ryan's face. "What was the box?"

"Just old stuff from the closet." Ryan croaked. That belonged to Him.

Patrick swiped the tears from the other side of Ryan's face. "Is that why you locked yourself away for a few days?" He asked, softly. He kept his hand held against Ryan's cheek, bringing him a welcomed warmth.

"I could handle it..." He leaned against Patrick's hand. Could he though?

"You don't have to do this on your own." Patrick frowned, "He wasn't the only person that cares about you."

Ryan snapped his eyes shut.

He had cared in a way no one else had. That was the problem. No one else knew the way he made Ryan feel, and Ryan didn't know how to express it in words. Ryan didn't want to share it. It was the only piece left from Him.

Ryan pulled away from Patrick's hand and turned away. He opened his eyes, not wanting to look at Patrick. "I'm fine."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Patrick look down. "Okay." He replied, voice barely above a whisper.