[Just like that, a rush of distant memories flood back, of the pair lying together and softly spilling secrets until the life faded from them both. The topic had come up then, too, of loneliness and despair and all the time they'd spent apart — all those dark details best suppressed, only ever drawn out by force.]

I know how it feels. Truly, I do. [The part of him slowly dragged to the surface wants to lash out and carve every agonizing memory into Doppio until the pain is shared between them both, and it's only with a deep breath and a moment's pause that he stifles the urge.]

I didn't mean to imply that it was ever easy for you. I know it couldn't have been. You lived, but you were desperately... lonely. [That was what Doppio had said, wasn't it? Diavolo was falling to pieces long before Doppio came home; everything about that day is shrouded and hazy. He can only reach out and catch bits and pieces of it, and perhaps it's better that way.]

Do others feel the same excruciating loneliness we do as they go about their lives? Or is this a unique torment, reserved only for us? I wonder.