[Right. Right. His relief spreads, gradually replaces that crawling, creeping sensation that threatened him earlier. That name doesn't matter anymore - because the Boss has left it behind, because Doppio never knew it, because it is, for all intents and purposes, nobody's name at this point, and--
And then the Boss touches him, and it isn't the first time he's held his face like this, but something about the gesture combined with his words - he's his Doppio, his, even now that so many things have changed and Passione is no more and he grows to understand they were never meant to live like this - that makes his heart swell. It almost, almost feels like it's about to beat again, and the incoming pulse drives words from the pit of his stomach to his mouth:]
I lo--
[Doppio just barely manages to shove his fist into his mouth and bite down. Hard. He has to, because if he doesn't--
The laptop nearly slips from the free arm he's using to hold it. He's got to take care of that.]
Uh, I'll-- I'll hold on to this for you, Boss. I'll... Yeah.
[He could hide it somewhere, but that wouldn't be safe enough - the Boss would seek it out, if the compulsion got to him. He could throw it away, but that would be even worse - anybody could come across it, find the Boss's private messages, read every one of them, and even if his correspondence doesn't consist of orders and deals anymore it's still important to keep it safe, and Jesus FUCKING Christ his stomach hurts SO much. If he were feeling poetic, he might say it's like his body is trying to absorb the words he refused to say back into itself.
He isn't, though. Right now, he mostly just feels sweaty.]
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And then the Boss touches him, and it isn't the first time he's held his face like this, but something about the gesture combined with his words - he's his Doppio, his, even now that so many things have changed and Passione is no more and he grows to understand they were never meant to live like this - that makes his heart swell. It almost, almost feels like it's about to beat again, and the incoming pulse drives words from the pit of his stomach to his mouth:]
I lo--
[Doppio just barely manages to shove his fist into his mouth and bite down. Hard. He has to, because if he doesn't--
The laptop nearly slips from the free arm he's using to hold it. He's got to take care of that.]
Uh, I'll-- I'll hold on to this for you, Boss. I'll... Yeah.
[He could hide it somewhere, but that wouldn't be safe enough - the Boss would seek it out, if the compulsion got to him. He could throw it away, but that would be even worse - anybody could come across it, find the Boss's private messages, read every one of them, and even if his correspondence doesn't consist of orders and deals anymore it's still important to keep it safe, and Jesus FUCKING Christ his stomach hurts SO much. If he were feeling poetic, he might say it's like his body is trying to absorb the words he refused to say back into itself.
He isn't, though. Right now, he mostly just feels sweaty.]