Whatever he saw, he's terrified of it.

Burns raised his eyes, expecting to be unimpressed. A pair of hazel eyes, wide and young, stared back at him.

Burns dropped his hand from Larry's shoulder. Involuntarily, he cupped it to his mouth. "No," he whispered softly. He felt the blood drain from his face. Those eyes, the color, the expression, the intelligence behind them. It was as if the past itself had ripped free from history, and sunk its talons into his chest. Memories he thought he'd buried erupted forth, bringing a flood of emotions with them. "No," he muttered again, voice trailing off. "It can't be. It's not you…"

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This picture was inspired by the exerpt above which is from the marvelous ChequeRoot's piece The Inception of Ryan Smithers. Which can be read along with the rest of their stories at m.fanfiction.net/u/7529308/