[ He'll choke if he speaks too soon, the rising emotion in the back of his throat, the comfort of this embrace, to be embraced; one that's as much for himself as it is the other. Two souls lost on a train with no clear end to it, clinging on to what they have.

So he needs a moment, before he pulls back his head, to have room to speak that won't be muffled against Inigo's chest. He wants to look him in the eyes, but there's a tinge of embarrassment, to choose to bring himself this low, to have to look up. So he keeps his eyes on his chest, a heavy smile on his lips, though all he's looking at is Inigo's body. ]

I don't need to be that special. [ There's some light mirth to it, a weight to the words, a slight crack to them. He chuckles, and sniffs. There's no tears rolling down his face, but he can feel his eyes wanting to change that, if they could. ] But... you don't need to apologise. For being unsure, you know? It's okay. And-- whatever you wanna do now, we can, [ he assures quietly, ] but, we'll do it later. When you're feeling better. More like yourself.

[ When he isn't grieving for a mother gone, looking for any way to forget. ]

You don't need to feel bad about it. And if you believe me, then- I won't either.

[ Because they'll never accept one being free of guilt without the other, right? You can't bully my friend--Inigo's used those words against him before. ]