â @exciofidesâ â :  " You donât have to hide your tears from me. â  â  HURT & COMFORT : accepting
The squeeze of her hand against his wrist was warm, delicate, the one he knew would have let go of him at the smallest jolt. He let the feeling spread, the warmth radiate to his hand too, wishing it would last more, become stronger. But that was not a tight grip, she wasnât applying any ounce of strength in such gesture - she simply lingered there, index and thumb barely touching as they encircled the wrist. The darkest thoughts dissipated, the terror and the cold boulder in his stomach too â all faded away. And while enjoying the comfort of the touch, of the dimly lit ambient and of her scent, he imagined tomorrow to be waiting for them as a simpler day.
He couldnât pinpoint nor directly ask her which hint had given his tears away ? If her eyes had adjusted so much to the lacking of light that the red of his sclerae had appeared visible to Yuna. Or perhaps, brighter cheeks, moist still, but just below the circle of his eyes. His hands â they couldnât have been trembling, correct ? He wondered if his own thoughts had started deceiving him; it would have explained why Yuna had gently grabbed of his wrist, though.Â
He had told her, once, there was no shame in showing emotions as raw and complicated as they came by. Uncontainable joy. Excruciating pain. To laugh, to yell, to scream till her lungs and throat would have burnt, if she felt like itâd have helped. That when the corners of her beautiful eyes would have started burning and filling with tears, whether happy or sad ones, she didnât have to hide them. That if Spira wished to only see the young Summoner oh so cheerfully and lightly walk towards self-destruction as the Templeâs sacrificial lamb, she didnât have to do it, not just for them at least.
He didnât like, usually, when someone else would have used Tidusâ own words of advice against him; he could never stand Auron hinting at it, so much that years had made him find a way to cry as softly and silently as a man possibly could, in moments of solitude. It was surprising, there was just something he couldnât hide from her.  â What⌠? â he whispered, no tone, a way to gain those precious seconds he needed to swallow the remains of tears stuck in his throat, so that his voice wouldnât crack; he prayed, â funny, ha ! â and prayed she had gotten it all wrong. He remembered it: never had Yuna shared a single tear, not till the night in the spring. And even thenâŚÂ  â Ah, that⌠please donât worry, Iâm feeling better now, â it was only half-a-lie, he thought nodding slightly, eyes lost inside hers;  â Itâs⌠for tomorrow, but I wasnât hiding it. Not really. It was just a moment⌠â
The dream was ending, but his duty was far from being over. They all needed her, and Yuna did need her Aeons still â those were words he couldnât forget. And he would have stood between her and any harm, till the wakingâs end. He had promised, the day he had become her Guardian â the oath, the code of a guardian, engraved now in his heart brighter than ever before, being perhaps the only moving force he needed to cling onto to remain focused. He inhaled deeply, his free hand hovering her gentle, smaller limb. His grip was stronger than hers, still careful not to result painful. More than anyone, she still needed some support;Â Â â Itâll be okay, I know that. â Â
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