There's a force when Roland grabs him, the shake or the attempt, exactly what Tidus was looking for, or so he thinks. Every word thrown back at him, his eyes already wide on Roland, full and determined. But it shakes, the dip of his brow that paints his conviction rises as Roland continues--'--all your fault. So you didn't try hard enough, you didn't try at all to save them'--and it's a blade too easy to plunge in. To have turned back on him, although he was waiting, wanting, hoping to have Roland take it. Exactly what he wanted.

He wasn't prepared.

The anger drains, the speed of a plug pulled, leaving nothing but the fear and shame beneath it all. A sickening gurgling in his stomach, a yearning to shrink away and to-- to be gone, like he was supposed to, like all the others. A heat sticking to his face from his earlier, but it doesn't reach in, warm him. He's locked onto Roland, searching desperately and too late for some fix, even as he doesn't present one. Has no reason or means to give him one.

But Zanarkand's there in his mind now, everything he didn't do. Everything he had no choice, no chance for, and he knows, what could he do? But it's been eating away at him, the thought, the chance. He's here, Zanarkand isn't.

He's here, Zanarkand isn't.

It's a mantra on repeat in his head that can't be shut off, the reason the first few tears slip down his face.