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[epitaffio]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, PURPLEPIPER. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 541.26.365.77 *** PURPLEPIPER has joined 541.26.365.77 <PURPLEPIPER> Am I doing this right? <PURPLEPIPER> Pretty weird to just leave a message like this is an answering machine or something <PURPLEPIPER> ME leaving a message I mean! <PURPLEPIPER> You can leave one if you want and I'll just get back to you whenever I can.

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sadboss hours

[fateschosen]

[It's a tight grip for someone so small, he thinks. It's strange and it's grounding. Not as soothing as it would be to close his eyes and slip away, to relinquish control and sensation and leave the rest to Doppio.]

You — shouldn't see me like this.

[Those words go muffled into the fabric of Doppio's shirt. Despite the half-hearted protest, he only presses himself closer. He feels the thrum of Doppio's heart and the movement of his chest with every breath, and tries to focus on them.]

makes incoherent noises

[epitaffio]

[Doppio shakes his head. In the position they're in, it's almost a nuzzle; he may worry about that later, but not now. The Boss needs him, and the way he presses himself closer only makes Doppio want to reciprocate even more, somehow, to curl around him and hold him and stand between him and the world; then he'd close his eyes, and nobody would have to see the Boss like this.]

Nobody's gonna hurt you, Boss. I won't let anybody lay a finger on you.

[If for some reason the wolf girl on the television burst in here and decided she wanted to take the Boss apart, Doppio doesn't know how he would stop her, realistically speaking - but he does know he wouldn't hesitate to do whatever it took, no matter the consequences.

It's not that he shouldn't see the Boss like this. It's that nobody should have made him like this.]

[fateschosen]

[He comes to rest his head on Doppio's shoulder, his breaths rapid as a flurry of words pour from him.]

I'm... exhausted, Doppio. The past strangles me despite my best attempts. I see it everywhere — in everything. I thought I had triumphed over it. I'd thought it was over, but it still...

[How can he defeat an enemy that only exists in his head? He could leave right now and hunt Giorno Giovanna down for what he did to him, and it wouldn't change a single thing. What hurts him now is memory alone — intangible and insurmountable. It isn't about the werewolf, nor is it about the dead man she sliced into. The broadcast should have been such an inconsequential thing; instead, it is as a reminder.

It happened to him before.

It could happen to him again.]

I want to— to sleep. To put my trust in you fully, to rely on you as I once did, but...

[...but that isn't possible anymore.]

[epitaffio]

[Doppio still doesn't let go. He only brings a hand to the back of the Boss's head.]

I know everything's different now. We can't just... deal with stuff the way we used to. It's... Passione's over, [and it hurts to say it, and his fingers curl, but he has something he's trying to articulate and he's not sure if this is the right way but he's trying -] so... you're a lot closer to all the stuff that could hurt you, right?

But... even if we can't do things the way we used to, I'm still here for you, okay? That hasn't changed. So... So you can close your eyes.

[At some point, Doppio started to stroke the Boss's hair. He's only noticed it now.

... He doesn't want to stop that, either.]