No— no. It could never be stupid — not from you. My dearest, my only, my, my—
[A soft gasp, pained in the flood of words, and Diavolo buries himself closer. Nestles, nearly, his arms clinging flimsy to Doppio's waist, stilling him and steadying himself in one motion.
He feels a lot of things. Sick, dizzy, and exhausted to start, and the root of the trouble is the turmoil within, not the spell that pries apart his mind and lips. The problem is him. It's so easy, too easy to speak his truth. He's believed it for years. Doppio has always been with him for a reason, and today that reason shines.]
...'s why you're here. [Comes a half-swallowed murmur.] With me, and I with you. Where would I be without you, my Doppio? Lost. Constantly running. Unable to face myself. But I can face you. I can look at you, now, and... I can't hate what I see.
[It's like staring into a mirror a decade or so removed from reality. When it was his face, his gloomy expression carved into softer features, his piercing eyes breaking apart a gentle visage, he could hardly stand the sight of it. The desperation to outrun everything he was, to escape the past, to grow, to do better, to be better... even then it was built into him. Inescapable.]
And if you can look at me — soaked to the bone and miserable as I am — and tell me that I am enough... that I mean as much to you now as I did at my apex...
...then I can try to believe it.
[Try, try, try. Such a weak, whimpered finish, but it's the most he can manage today.]
no subject
[A soft gasp, pained in the flood of words, and Diavolo buries himself closer. Nestles, nearly, his arms clinging flimsy to Doppio's waist, stilling him and steadying himself in one motion.
He feels a lot of things. Sick, dizzy, and exhausted to start, and the root of the trouble is the turmoil within, not the spell that pries apart his mind and lips. The problem is him. It's so easy, too easy to speak his truth. He's believed it for years. Doppio has always been with him for a reason, and today that reason shines.]
...'s why you're here. [Comes a half-swallowed murmur.] With me, and I with you. Where would I be without you, my Doppio? Lost. Constantly running. Unable to face myself. But I can face you. I can look at you, now, and... I can't hate what I see.
[It's like staring into a mirror a decade or so removed from reality. When it was his face, his gloomy expression carved into softer features, his piercing eyes breaking apart a gentle visage, he could hardly stand the sight of it. The desperation to outrun everything he was, to escape the past, to grow, to do better, to be better... even then it was built into him. Inescapable.]
And if you can look at me — soaked to the bone and miserable as I am — and tell me that I am enough... that I mean as much to you now as I did at my apex...
...then I can try to believe it.
[Try, try, try. Such a weak, whimpered finish, but it's the most he can manage today.]