Their downfall wasn’t painful. In the arms of each other, they were ready to plunge from Heaven's guiding safety into the dark uncertainty of Hell. They were ready to burn, to crash themselves in the flames of darkness and evil. Nothing mattered as long as Evan could hold Barty, as long as Barty was holding Evan. It was just the two of them against the rest of the world.
They touched each other like fire, warm bodies tangled on the edge of the abyss. They were doomed, they fell into the shadows of the devil. Its warmth was like a drug, the thrilling passion of destruction harmonized with their burning love. It was carrying them away in a spiral of greed and addiction, which inevitably guided them to their decline.
The pyre of Hell consumed Evan first. It didn’t allow Barty to join him. Evan’s ashes were flying, lonely, within the warm walls of Hell, waiting for Barty to come back to him. Barty was dust, wandering in the cold corridors of his human prison.
Walking through Hell hand in hand was easy. But they untangled their fingers, just once, their bodies stopped meddling, and they never melted in each other again.