[ He was soooo petulant! Imagine giving your ex your name! What a wild concept!

In retrospect, he didn't need confirmation. He knew, deep down, ever since that nightmare; he knew his name, and the name he gave him, and how he felt about it. A sigh escapes him, and he ends up staring at the ceiling of the little gazebo he's called home these last few nights.

I think we're connected. Even when we're asleep.

It means there's no safe place from each other. Even if he wanted to give this man a world of space (a thought that briefly aches), he's not sure how possible it is now. Would he still hear every thought if he were a thousand miles away? Could he turn it off? Does he want to? Couldn't he use this as an easy way to stay close to him?

Miguel doesn't love that, but he doesn't love anything else, either. ]