epitaffio | IC Inbox

[He doesn't grip tight enough, and that is his flaw. It only takes one rough jerk away for Diavolo's hold to slacken. He can't commit wholeheartedly; he cannot see his will through to the end. Perhaps he doesn't want death, but—

But something flares up in him regardless, something bright and blinding, a rush of heat and a jolt of static that sets his hair on end.

Memory... is that all this is about? Is that why Doppio disobeys his orders?]

Oh, Doppio? So why does it have to be me? [His voice comes in a low, accusatory rumble that pieces the silence.] It is always me. It has always been me. Every fault, every mistake, every burning memory is mine alone to bear, while you press ever forward, unchained by our past in a way I could never be. I envy you more than you could imagine.

[He regretted his words enough when they were fresh out of his mouth. The Boss's response only makes him feel worse. Now it feels like a betrayal, like what he meant to say is that he isn't willing to relieve the Boss of a burden merely because it would inconvenience him.]

That's not...!

[It isn't what he meant. That's no lie.]

D-Do you want me to remember? I-- [He minds. He doesn't know why he minds, but he must, because he can't bring himself to say he doesn't.] I-I'd do it for you. [If he had to. If it was an order.] I just... I...

[But there's another burning truth desperate to come out, and he finds himself unable to form a single word until he gives in to it.]

What's... What's gonna happen if we both forget? What'll that make us?

If we forget... what? Forget everything? Everything we have been through, everything we are...?

I know this to be true: you, my Doppio, would be the same as you have always been, even lacking a past to guide you forward. At your core, you are... unshakable. I know you, and I know your soul, and I know that you have never been anything but your most genuine self. Even with every memory stripped away from you, with time, you would piece yourself back together — precisely as you should be.

It has happened before. It could happen again. But there is nothing—

["To fear", but the words die in his throat, his confident speech fizzling away to a noncommittal murmur. How miserable the past truly is. Memories that should have been theirs to share are now only his, and the thought of pushing through the same loss again fills him with an aching loneliness.

If Doppio alone were to forget himself, then Diavolo could mold himself into someone new to match, share only the pertinent details of their history and leave the rest of the wretched past behind where it belongs. But he would still remember the version of himself that suffered alone, that was a coward, weak and worse in every conceivable way. And he would still remember every victory, every joy, and he would be unable to share any of them with Doppio — not the same, never the same again.

But that wasn't the point, was it? The question was not about Doppio alone. If they both forgot, then—]

You would be fine.

[Maybe that much is true. If it's happened before - and it must have - and he's still here, still with the Boss, then there really must be nothing to fear.

Doppio clenches his jaw to fight back the inexplicable urge to say he's scared anyway. He'd feel grateful for the distraction - for the Boss's final remark - if it weren't so goddamn fucking alarming.]

But what about you?! How... What the hell would I even be able to do in a situation like that? If-- If I remember, then I can remind you, yeah, but... but even now, I forget things all the time!

[If he forgets the Boss, somehow, and the Boss forgets him... how are they supposed to remind each other?]

[Diavolo still kneels. His hair and wings are still damp with rainwater that drips to the floor beneath them both.

It's absurd to have this conversation here and now. But he can't keep his mouth shut.]

And what would you be so driven to remind me of, Doppio? What is so important that the memory of it must never be taken from me?

[The past is a blight. It wraps around him and chokes the life from him. Even the softer, kinder memories are a stain upon him, their existence a constant and painful reminder of everything he has lost.]

My failures, my regrets, my— my suffering? Would you chain me to those? Is that what you want?

No! Boss, I-- I don't want that for you! Of course not!

[It feels like he keeps making things worse - if not at every turn, then every other - but what choice does he have? He can't just stay quiet; not literally and not while the Boss needs him. He needs... He needs...

The words come out in a mumble.]

... what you mean.

[Doppio is hesitant to continue, unsure if the next punishment for his transgression will come from the Boss himself or from the force compelling them to bare their secrets to each other, but nothing happens.

And he's still afraid. Very much so. But he tries again, a little louder, a little more clearly:]

I'd... remind you of what you mean. T-To me.

Tell me.

[It's a demand, and fear and vitriol both burst forth through it. For an instant, Diavolo flares bright, needing to hear the answer and dreading it both. Reality crumbles around them both, fast enough to be dizzying, but the floor stays sturdy beneath their feet. The world outside erupts into motion, and beneath the lights that glimmer and surround them there are no walls, no church, nowhere to run.

And in the void left behind, the raging storm ebbs into shameful silence, and Diavolo tries once more.]

...tell me, Doppio, what I mean to you. Now, while you cannot lie to me.

[There's still an edge to his voice as lurking suspicion nips at his heels, but it comes softer, now. ]

[So here they are again.

Was his slip-up - the truth he tried to omit, albeit poorly - where this conversation started to spin out of control? He's not sure anymore. So much has happened in what feels like moments and hours all at once. And now...

Now he knows he has to say what he means, not only because all his attempts at keeping the truth to himself make his stomach curl into itself with cramps, but because the more he tries to hide, the more the Boss fears the worst.

And sure, Doppio is afraid too. Sure, he still can't believe the Boss would like to know the full, undiluted truth ~~- even Doppio himself struggles to face it~~. But if he has to choose between his fear and the Boss's... That makes the decision a lot easier, doesn't it?]

Y-You mean... the world to me.

[He hesitates, still. It isn't that he fears being punished for a lie, because this isn't one - but some truths carry just as much terror with them, by their very nature.]

You're... everything. Everything I do, it's... it's for you. When we were separated-- No, when I found out what happened to you... I didn't want to exist anymore. There wasn't any point.

[It's true. It's true, and it hurts.]

But now we're both here, so... even if it's never going to be the same as before again... I know it's gonna be fine. Because... Because you're the one I live for.

[He's heard it before.]

[He's heard the same sentiment murmured to him through the cold plastic of a toy phone and felt the warmth rise in their chest proving the words true, and he believed it then. With his whole heart, he believed. But since the day they were ripped apart, he has doubted. Something has changed, something is wrong, and what they had can never be the same. That is what every instinct tells him. He can't trust anymore. He mustn't.

It's different hearing it from the outside. Colder, dimmer. He can't sense the warmth of Doppio's words, nor his presence wrapped around him. He only feels the pulse of his own heart and hears his own hitching breath breaking the silence.

It isn't enough.]

Tell— tell me why. I want to understand. I want to trust you. Why live for someone who has failed you once before? You've lived for me. You've died for me. Why— why do it again?

Why...?

[He hears the question. He understands it, in theory; he understands the dictionary meaning of the word. But what is he supposed to say? It's as if he's been asked to explain why the sky is blue, or... no, that's not right. There's a scientific explanation for the sky being blue, right? "Refraction"? No, it's more like...

More like he's being asked to explain why light exists.]

I just... I just want to. I don't know what else... [He shakes his head, brow furrowed in thought.] I can't think of anything else I'd rather be doing.

[It catches up with him then - the one thing the Boss said that he has to flat out correct.]

You didn't fail me. The traitors fucked it all up, that's what happened.

[He believes the Boss would have come back for him. He wants to believe it so badly that he does, and that's why it's true.]

[One by one, the stars blink out, and the blackness melts away, and what is left is light and warmth and home. And Diavolo dips his head and rests it against Doppio, and there is no ferocity left in him at all. Nor is there much energy. Such an impulsive use of his powers, now when his body is already exhausted.]

You... aren't mad at me.

[An echo of Doppio's earlier words, and he weakly laughs as he repeats them. Ridiculous, all of this.]

While I am nothing less than infuriated with myself. I hate every mistake I've made, and every weaker version of myself that made them, that erred, that failed — that still fails, even now.

[The sigh of relief that he breathes is, strictly speaking, unnecessary. It doesn't feel that way, though; instead, it feels like the weight that leaves him in the moment needed to leave him, so he could hold the Boss like this, one hand on the back of his head.]

Of course I'm not, Boss.

[He doesn't mind saying it again. He'll say it as many times as he needs to, until the Boss can feel safe again.]

Um... I know how you feel about the past, [he thinks he does, anyway; ignorance doesn't make a lie] but - all those versions of yourself... the ones I remember, anyway... They've all meant the same to me. So... I dunno. Maybe you shouldn't be so hard on them?

[...]

I wish I were as good with words as you are, Boss. That sounded so stupid.

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.]

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im also taking this on a whim

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made u wait. is this too intense a convo to be backdating? waves hands. its fine

it's fine!!!!!!! also suicidal ideation cw

is it normal to still have brainbees about stuff that happened years ago.like for me ya but DIAVOLO?

heeheehoohoohee

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