Inigo speaks, and Tidus knows how much he's trying. How much he wants to help him, be there for him; it rings through by every word that he says, by how he strains to speak over the tears that won't stop leaving his face.

And what Tidus knows is, despite everything else he doesn't have answers for-- right now, he doesn't want to make his friends worry like this. He doesn't want to make them cry, and that means more to him in this moment than the past, the future. Tidus slips his hands from Inigo's shoulders and tugs him towards in, as he steps in, hugging him without reserve. Arms wrapped around his back, head pressed to the side of his.

"I know," he says, the words thick. "I'm lucky... I'm really lucky. Inigo..."

He doesn't have anything he want to say, to try and express himself when he's struggling, to even know himself. But he knows he wants this. He wants to be able to hold Inigo, to reassure him; that he misses to be able to hold someone, even if in his heart, the one he wants and misses to hold much is Yuna. The reason he squeezes his embrace a little tighter, though the shape of Inigo is all wrong.

It stings, deeper, and he swallows against the painful lump in his throat threatening to choke him.