Kon's been gone for a two weeks and four days now.
No, that wasn't right-he'd been gone for a couple of months. A year. Tim lost track a while ago (bullshit). He still remembers cocky smiles and enthusiastic hugs and an unrelenting cheerfulness and blue, blue eyes that always kept him-alive, maybe. Awake.
He's not sure when the hallucinations started, and that one's not a lie. He's not sure, and that terrifies him.
But one day he came home ("Yo, Timmy! Want ice cream? Midnight ice cream is good!"), pulled off the cowl ("Your head seriously looks like a condom. It's actually kinda cute."), splashed his face in the sink ("Relaaaax, Timmyboo. You're gonna turn into your old man."), and looked in the mirror to find the same cornflower-blue eyes and sheepish little grin.
"Kon!" he'd gasped, whirling around.
There was no one there.
He'd heaved a dry, shuddering, tremulous breath, racketing in his chest, shivering through his bones. No one there. Never anyone there.
Tim had stared into the mirror-his eyes were the wrong shade, they weren't-and cried himself to sleep, slumped across the bathroom sink.
Kon was back again, a few weeks or days or hours after that. He talked this time. Nothing major. Just-"hey, Tim, what are we eating for dinner?"-as if nothing had changed, as if he'd always been there. He lasted for a day or two and then he was gone.
Tim tried to analyze it, break it down into workable, scientific terms. Hallucinations caused by-the brain was-psychoanalysis studies showed that-
But nothing worked. His logic failed him, his emotions tore him apart, and his dreams were filled with cornflower blue.
When Kon came back, he knew his best friend wasn't the same. Yeah, Tim had always been a bit weird and off and cute and OCD and neurotic, but nothing this bad. Kon had been gearing up to see him for a few weeks now (he'd always sucked at keeping track of the days), hadn't told a single soul he was back because he wanted Tim to be the first.
He ducked in through the window, silently gliding towards the kitchen of the little apartment. Tim was eating ice cream-Kon couldn't help but smile-and looked up in mild interest as Kon descended on the faded white tiles.
Kon's breath caught in his throat at those clear blue eyes. There was something stuck in his chest-a deep ache, a want to hug Tim, to love him, to touch his face and his hands and his everything just to make sure he was there-but Kon ignored it, waiting on stolen oxygen for Tim to make the first move.
A small, bittersweet smile spread across Tim's face. "Hey, Kon," he said quietly, pulling out a chair at the table. "Sit."
Speechless-where were the waterworks? The fireworks? The panic and the relief and the beautiful, twisted love?-Kon slowly made his way over to the table, easing himself into the chair. Tim looked-sad. Strange. Hunched in on himself, away from the world even moreso than from before Kon left. Tim sat in silence, spooning ice cream into his mouth.
"...you're skinny, Tim," Kon said quietly, voice raspy from lack of use. Tim's head darted up, lackluster features becoming even gaunter in the fluorescent kitchen light, as if he'd forgotten Kon was-
There. That weird, sad little smile again. "Yeah, well," Tim laughed. It was hollow. "Haven't been eating well."
Kon let it slide.
The next few weeks were strange, to say the least. Tim seemed close enough to his old self, though he shied away from physical contact and Kon felt his (virtually indestructible) heart splinter at the thought of all the memories they'd have to rebuild. Tim rambled a lot, now. Sometimes his words didn't even make sense-"if I'd just wake up and see that it's a damn illusion, then"-but Kon never said anything, just quietly listened and rubbed soothing circles on his back.
Tim still patrolled through Gotham with the condom head and everything, mostly catching petty criminals. Sometimes Kon went along with him, still staying on the down-low as a secret weapon. Tim spent a lot of his time on research at home, and Kon just kind of lazed around the apartment. He wasn't ready to fully come back to the world yet-not with Tim like this.
One day they were sitting on the couch, watching shitty television, and Tim burst into another one of his rambles. "Cornflowers. Your eyes were-they were the color of cornflowers."
There. Another thing. Tim always referred to everything about him in past tense.
"Cornflowers are also called Bachelors Buttons, you know that? Hurtsickles, too. Weird names, huh. And supposedly, if a young man in love wears a cornflower and it fades, he's not loved back."
Tim reached under the collar of his shirt, pulling out a tiny bottle on a chain with a bright blue flower in it, vibrant and clear. Kon watched in silence, breath coming in hurt little staccato beats.
"Wh-why hasn't it faded, Kon?" Tim asked, voice already broken and small and scared and raw with unshed tears. Desperately, he grasped Kon's hands, the meta feeling the chain of the necklace bite into his skin despite his invulnerability.
"Your eyes were-why did you leave me, Kon?" Tim sobbed, falling into Kon's chest, head pressed against the crook of his neck. "I don't-I don't understand. You left me, and you won't come back."
Cornflower eyes clouded over and clear blue eyes saw straight through him.
"Hey, Dick," Tim smiled, a little less sad and a little more weary. "Timmyboo! My little bro!" Dick bounded through the apartment door, still energetic as ever, and swept Tim up into a hug. He caught Kon's eye over the head over the shorter boy, and his face lit up into an even brighter grin.
It had been two months since Kon came back, and he'd figured it was about time he reintroduced himself to the world.
"I see you've been hiding a secret from Dickiebird, Timmy," Dick teased, setting Tim down and leaning an elbow on his shoulder. He ducked his head, leaning into Tim's ear conspiratorially. "A rather attractive secret, I have to say."
Tim grinned, that one smile that said are-you-sure-you're-not-drugged-right-now?" What are you talking about, Dick?"
"Kon! He's standing right there, you know?"
There was a resounding silence in the apartment after Dick's laughter had faded. Tim's face was pale as a sheet, eyes frozen wide in shock and fingers quivering by his sides. He looked at Kon as if seeing him for the first time, drinking in every feature of his face and every contour of his body.
"W-wait," Tim choked out, chest rising and falling unevenly. "Y-you can see him too?"
And then the puzzle pieces clicked. The past tense, the rambles, the illusions, the cornflowers-shit, the fucking cornflowers-everything made sense, and Kon suddenly knew what heartbreak felt like.
Tim fell to his knees with a gasp, Dick's face now stricken with alarm and worry. "K-Kon? What's going on?" he asked, a note of suppressed hysteria threatening to overwhelm him. He'd never seen Tim like this, so emotional, so unhinged-
"Don't worry, Dick," Kon murmured. His lips felt numb and cold, forming words without any feeling behind them. "I-could you give us a moment?" He sank into a kneel, cupping Tim's face and bringing their foreheads together.
Dick hovered hesitantly at the door. "Y-yeah, sure, I-yeah." The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth as he quietly stepped outside, closing the door with a muffled click.
The only sounds in the apartment were Tim's heaving gasps and Kon's stuttering heartbeat thundering in his ears. "I-I thought you were dead, thought you were gone forever, thought you were just another-another illusion, I-" Tim whimpered, high and desperate, and Kon pulled him into a crushing hug.
"I'm sorry Tim, I'm so, so, sorry, I-I should've known, should've realized, I'm so sorry."
Tim wasn't even crying anymore. There were no tears streaming down his face, no short hiccups of breath-just long, heartwrenching attempts to fill up his lungs with stale oxygen, to make up for the days and hours and minutes and seconds he'd been living with his own torment. He'd cried himself out of tears months ago.
He wrapped his arms tightly around Kon's neck, burying his face in soft, comforting hair. His body shivered against Kon, the larger of the two drawing up his knees in a vague attempt to somehow protect Tim from himself as he quieted.
They sat there on Tim's apartment floor, clinging onto each other for dear life, breathing in reality and each other and everything they had.
"...you seriously think of my eyes as cornflower blue?" Kon asked, a wisp of laughter in his voice. Tim gave a quavering sob-laugh, clutching Kon tighter. "Shut up, Kon. They-" He broke off, shuddering breath giving an extra hitch.
"They are."
Kon's been back for two months and four days now, and Tim can finally breathe again.