He wants to cry, but it's a good feeling. Overwhelmed with being hugged, being held tightly by both of them. Relief that they aren't mad at him. They aren't mad at each other. It's alright. They weren't really arguing.

And they are his friends. He really has friends who are like this, who like him. Who want to spend time with him and don't mind that he doesn't know the first thing about how to act or what to do.

He twists slightly, "Sorry... You don't need to worry about me." It was the last thing he wanted, even though the hugs were nice, being held like this was... he didn't even have words to explain what he felt.

Safe. Loved. They weren't feelings he was used to. "Thank you... for being my friends."