Tycho knew what the other meant. How could he not when he felt the same? "Losing you drained the world of colour," Tycho murmured in return. Quite literally it seemed like if one took note of the state of his homes exterior.

It pained him that the other had to stop reading poetry but he could not help also being glad for it. After all, he was a poet and had written many a poem for the other and still did so. After all, it was how he expressed himself.

His face brightened - if such an expression could even be noticed when he was currently spectral - at the mention of the other not regretting. "I did wonder if you did," he murmured. He felt guilty now for that momentary moment he'd had of wishing he had never met the other. He had to go soon anyway lest he stay stuck like this forever.

Even so, he couldn't quite tear himself away. "I don't know if I am strong enough to stay away like you have been ... perhaps I should leave Hogsmeade entirely," he suggested, reaching out to place his hand close to the others cheek but not actually touching Ford this time.