There's something telling, already, that both of them know. About the other, at their basics: That they're hurting, worried about the other, worried about more; trying to do right by each other and in this moment right now. But words are difficult, the the right string of them and the right time to speak them.

Neither of them want to screw up. And this way, it's easier to see it, to feel it. To know it. Tidus breathes out at the soft-spoken confession, and he has to wait for the second to pass like he might cry. The well of emotion that comes and goes in threat.

"I missed you too, pal," he says as softly back, a hitch of fondness in how it ends. The market and stalls and the noise of life is far behind his back, and it can all stay back there. Tidus doesn't rush, soaking in this comfort. A simpler but effective form of expression.

"Promise you don't think you did anything wrong...? I mean it... I don't like making you and Taiki feel bad..."