[ He doesn't think he'll sleep when they go to bed. He's exhausted to the point of being an empty tank, just a body that drags to carry. Exhausted over the rescues, exhausted emotionally from bringing so many friends back. Knowing and seeing Inigo around - even that was tiring for how it stirred around inside his chest, a vice around his lungs that he wanted to give more attention to (to Inigo, to tell him everything he's been carrying for days - the fear of nearly losing him that way), but he couldn't. Can't.
In reality, it doesn't take him long to fall asleep at all.
He won't remember if he dreamed. What it was that led to him waking, but there's memories, thoughts; the entry and leave from the void clinging to him as much as the rest, the calls that he heard, the misery and longing. A loneliness. A deep, crippling loneliness, the desire to have anyone close. The reminder of an empty bed beside him every morning that he woke, and he sees it then, before his eyes have truly opened. We didn't get him, we didn't get him. ]
Inigo. [ It's a cry that comes out wet, and Tidus reaches at Inigo's side of the bed, something in the way. Bedsheets, his brain figures, not realising the body that's there, the thing that he's scrambling for before his vision actually awakens and adjusts.
Whenever it is that he does see Inigo there - if Inigo stops him, grabs his hand or settles him down, Tidus locks onto him with wide, disbelieving eyes - and then the tears start to come, his lower lip trembling, a mouth he has to fight his jaw to close. ]
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In reality, it doesn't take him long to fall asleep at all.
He won't remember if he dreamed. What it was that led to him waking, but there's memories, thoughts; the entry and leave from the void clinging to him as much as the rest, the calls that he heard, the misery and longing. A loneliness. A deep, crippling loneliness, the desire to have anyone close. The reminder of an empty bed beside him every morning that he woke, and he sees it then, before his eyes have truly opened. We didn't get him, we didn't get him. ]
Inigo. [ It's a cry that comes out wet, and Tidus reaches at Inigo's side of the bed, something in the way. Bedsheets, his brain figures, not realising the body that's there, the thing that he's scrambling for before his vision actually awakens and adjusts.
Whenever it is that he does see Inigo there - if Inigo stops him, grabs his hand or settles him down, Tidus locks onto him with wide, disbelieving eyes - and then the tears start to come, his lower lip trembling, a mouth he has to fight his jaw to close. ]