Tidus doesn't move back right away. He lets them hold like this, foreheads plush against one another, the gesture that Inigo seemingly wanted to be in. A small silence, before Tidus pulls back his head, sinking his head lower, nose near level to Inigo's collarbone.
"Why do all my friends talk like they never give me anything? Don't you know how much you mean to me? Why?"
'Why you mean so much to me?' They're not words spoken in frustration nor chiding, though there's some level of disbelief, of uncertainty tucked in them. He can never understand, if its the insecurities that his friends carry or if its that Tidus doesn't show well enough the happiness his friends bring him in return. That he doesn't need them to be like him - always loud, always impatient; frigid to accepting innocent, friendly male affection, to never just being accepting of so many things in first place?
"I'm not...as selfless as you make me out to be. You know? If I... if I could go home, I would."
And they're hard words to speak, a true honesty to admit. His mouth hurts, aches even, a ghost of a pain. Or perhaps more truthfully, it's all an anxiety close to turning physical. A truth he's never really wanted to admit, even to himself.
Home. To Spira. To Yuna, to everyone...
It's too close though, to a conversation repeated, to a conversation he doesn't want to have right now. Shaking his head, forcing himself to speak when he doesn't want to, an apprehensive rush carrying him along.
"But I can't think about that now. I need to think about-- everyone. I want to focus on what we can do. I can't think about the past."
no subject
"Why do all my friends talk like they never give me anything? Don't you know how much you mean to me? Why?"
'Why you mean so much to me?' They're not words spoken in frustration nor chiding, though there's some level of disbelief, of uncertainty tucked in them. He can never understand, if its the insecurities that his friends carry or if its that Tidus doesn't show well enough the happiness his friends bring him in return. That he doesn't need them to be like him - always loud, always impatient; frigid to accepting innocent, friendly male affection, to never just being accepting of so many things in first place?
"I'm not...as selfless as you make me out to be. You know? If I... if I could go home, I would."
And they're hard words to speak, a true honesty to admit. His mouth hurts, aches even, a ghost of a pain. Or perhaps more truthfully, it's all an anxiety close to turning physical. A truth he's never really wanted to admit, even to himself.
Home. To Spira. To Yuna, to everyone...
It's too close though, to a conversation repeated, to a conversation he doesn't want to have right now. Shaking his head, forcing himself to speak when he doesn't want to, an apprehensive rush carrying him along.
"But I can't think about that now. I need to think about-- everyone. I want to focus on what we can do. I can't think about the past."