There's a shake of his head, denying it. He knows-- it's-- there's.

Tidus should go first. He won't explain, or go into the details why; but his worry, anger and pain-- grief, Esteban had named then, and it's not because the person isn't dead that it doesn't apply any less, because he knows how much this gnaws inside, empty holes that eat away at more and more of a person until there is no ledge to find safe, to find secure.

"Y' go first. I'll stick around; make sure you're not goin' anywhere you're not s'pposed to be~" There's a cheeky wink, lighthearted and cheery, before Esteban remembers their last attempt at anything remotely similar. "My turn to stand here an' look pretty. Can't have you hog all the spotlight."

'Dians. 'Dians, the hope is palpable. It had been so hard; so hard just to thread the water, he hadn't even realized how low he'd sunk until he could manage to bring himself back up. He's sorry that he was in such a poor state before. He's sorry that, for all his intents, and all his tenacity, these days-- these last few days... Esteban feels like he's lost himself. Not just his friends, but himself too.

Later, later, later, he reminds himself. Not now.