Cesar can watch the cracks form anyway, and he hates himself for it. It was all the doppelganger's doing, but Cesar played a role in this, didn't he? He keeps coming back to the increasingly incredulous question of how did he not notice, and it's to a point where it feels like shouting in his ears.

It's not until L's last words that it feels like the strength drains from him, and he leans his head back against the wardrobe, simply absorbing these facts. Cesar's copy looked after L. Cesar's copy went and found L when he needed him. Cesar's copy made L feel loved.

Is that the opposite of what Cesar does?

L's only response is a {Sorry}. He's not sure what he's apologizing for, but at this point he can't think of anything else to say, and he feels irrationally compelled to say at least that much. Sorry for not being better? Sorry for not noticing? Sorry for being weak now, and not bustling them out of there before his double returned? Cesar's face has settled in unhappy lines, and he's keeping his hands close to hide the shaking. This is pathetic: they're both wallowing, and it's helping no one. Surely they have a few more moments to steep in their respective hurts?