They both know what stopped him. What entered his thoughts, what sunk him down emotionally, even if he keeps standing, has to. He wanted to avoid this, though the shame, the confusing flutter of not knowing how he feels except for bad, wrong, hits him. Now they'll walk, away but Inigo's going to be letting it dig inside his brain, burrow in deep. It's all Tidus can think about it as Inigo rambles away, reassurances as he beats himself up. Tidus knows. He can see it.

The fudge is sticky in his hand, his heart racing. It's a stupid dare. Inigo didn't mean anything. I'm gonna ruin his day.

He does it, swifter than he moved the first time, without time for pause or any hesitance to hit. His free had gripping the sleeve of Inigo's shirt and the other on his shoulder, still balled, smudging the sweet in his hand as his lips press into Inigo's, make no doubt that they're there or were with how firm they keep.

A second, another--and Tidus breaks off on the third, his heartbeat drowning out everything else than the blood pumping round his body. Turns on his feet, attempting to speak over it anyway.

"Clothes it is! We'll buy outfits, and new shoes-- shoes! We can get shoes for the kids I was watching over on Blue!"

He may be walking, with or without company, but will stop and look back if he has to. But if he does--

"Come on, Inigo! Get moving! The prince wants clothes!"

If he speaks loud and bold and endlessly, then he won't have to think about it. Anything. Nothing at all. Nothing. Nothing.