Tidus will probably loathe it. He'll loathe it when Roland instinctively takes hold of that pain, gravitates towards it like he has no choice but to float into the orbit. When his tears fall and his sorrow manifests, he forgets that he too shares the same admittance of guilt - the friend that follows him through dreams and nightmares. All he sees now is this boy before him, beaten down and broken, pleading for help. No longer asking him to save the princess from the evil dragon; absent as he waits by the chores, dishes dried on his own.
Tidus will loathe it when Roland reaches out now, unafraid if he will be pushed away. The back of his hand wipes the drops that fall easily, staining his cheeks. The other holds him still, resting just at the crook of his opposite shoulder. Roland is beginning to put two and two together.
Zanarkand, his home - Zanarkand was real! - and suddenly, without his SCA he grows transparent. He disappears.
I don't deserve a second life.
The details remain murky, but at long last the president sees a whole picture. Tidus was the sole survivor; the Zanarkand he speaks of far, far away from them now. And he's guilty. Roland most of all, understands. Reads it well, like a book he knows by heart. The friend that follows him; the one he hides. And Tidus kept it all up, smiled through it all. Perhaps it was in losing Yuna that day and removing his SCA that the threads began to unwind. How? Why? Thoughts that he would save for another day, when it's been said and done and Tidus could regain his footing again.
When his hands cease and Tidus's face dries, Roland is left overwhelmed. The sun of Irivar is cold as it sets. How could this be? How is this always the fate that befalls the young, the eager, the brave? Of course he deserves a second chance at life. Everybody did. Everybody should. But would he believe Roland?
Not like this.
What should I do?
Roland doesn't rush. He lets the words come to him, he doesn't seek it out. He wants it to mean something. He wants to help Tidus desperately. So it is his honesty, candid as it comes, which takes hold of him then. No more hiding or diverting. He would answer the question, this cry for help. He promised. He vowed. If help was asked of him, then he would give it unconditionally. Especially Tidus.
"...That day on the platform," he starts. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. "When I saw you disappear, I panicked. I didn't know what in the world was going on. But the more I could see past you, the more I realized what I had to do. I didn't need to know anything else, I just..."
What should I do?
"...I wanted you to stay. To fight it. I didn't want you to go." He meets Tidus's eye, knowing nothing will truly abate one's sense of guilt. But he had to try.
"So don't. Stay with us. In the here and now." Roland swallows thickly. He has never been comfortable with overtly saying the things his heart whispers, but it doesn't stop, it refuses to.
"Don't...don't spend whatever you have here just wondering what to do with the chance you were given. Fight to find it. The answer. The reason." He exhales heavily, the smile on his face neither mirthful nor wry.
"It's the last quarter of the game, pro. Don't give up on me now. Take the shot. Take as many shots as you have to. You'll land your goal. Might not be now, might not be tomorrow. But one day, you will. And I'll be shouting as loud as you taught me so you can hear me cheering for you at the stands."
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Tidus will loathe it when Roland reaches out now, unafraid if he will be pushed away. The back of his hand wipes the drops that fall easily, staining his cheeks. The other holds him still, resting just at the crook of his opposite shoulder. Roland is beginning to put two and two together.
Zanarkand, his home - Zanarkand was real! - and suddenly, without his SCA he grows transparent. He disappears.
I don't deserve a second life.
The details remain murky, but at long last the president sees a whole picture. Tidus was the sole survivor; the Zanarkand he speaks of far, far away from them now. And he's guilty. Roland most of all, understands. Reads it well, like a book he knows by heart. The friend that follows him; the one he hides. And Tidus kept it all up, smiled through it all. Perhaps it was in losing Yuna that day and removing his SCA that the threads began to unwind. How? Why? Thoughts that he would save for another day, when it's been said and done and Tidus could regain his footing again.
When his hands cease and Tidus's face dries, Roland is left overwhelmed. The sun of Irivar is cold as it sets. How could this be? How is this always the fate that befalls the young, the eager, the brave? Of course he deserves a second chance at life. Everybody did. Everybody should. But would he believe Roland?
Not like this.
What should I do?
Roland doesn't rush. He lets the words come to him, he doesn't seek it out. He wants it to mean something. He wants to help Tidus desperately. So it is his honesty, candid as it comes, which takes hold of him then. No more hiding or diverting. He would answer the question, this cry for help. He promised. He vowed. If help was asked of him, then he would give it unconditionally. Especially Tidus.
"...That day on the platform," he starts. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. "When I saw you disappear, I panicked. I didn't know what in the world was going on. But the more I could see past you, the more I realized what I had to do. I didn't need to know anything else, I just..."
What should I do?
"...I wanted you to stay. To fight it. I didn't want you to go." He meets Tidus's eye, knowing nothing will truly abate one's sense of guilt. But he had to try.
"So don't. Stay with us. In the here and now." Roland swallows thickly. He has never been comfortable with overtly saying the things his heart whispers, but it doesn't stop, it refuses to.
"Don't...don't spend whatever you have here just wondering what to do with the chance you were given. Fight to find it. The answer. The reason." He exhales heavily, the smile on his face neither mirthful nor wry.
"It's the last quarter of the game, pro. Don't give up on me now. Take the shot. Take as many shots as you have to. You'll land your goal. Might not be now, might not be tomorrow. But one day, you will. And I'll be shouting as loud as you taught me so you can hear me cheering for you at the stands."