He glanced up at her, but it was in false hope. When Yuna trailed off, disappointment veiled his eyes, and he found it easier to look at the ground. There was an empty crate nearby, and he felt like kicking it. Instead, he sat down, still keeping his distance from Yuna. The wounds had never healed, but he felt them reopening, stinging at her rejection. He was being stupid, and he knew it. How could he let one person impact him this much? The only thing he could do was try to hide it from her. That almost made it worse, because out of everyone, she was the best at reading his emotions.

He bit back a comment on her appearance. It would have only reminded him of what he missed. Did he even have any right to say anything now? Still, he was glad that as far as he could see, she was faring better than some of the survivors. He couldn't say the same when it came to her emotional and mental wellbeing, though.

So suddenly? That was what hurt, wasn't it? She didn't regret leaving, just leaving without any warning. There were so many things he wanted to say and ask. There was an unvoiced 'why', guarded by his walls of sunlight, false laughter, encouraging words and anger. His lips twitched into a forced smile.

"You can't keep regretting things like that, Yuna. We have a fight to finish. And if you're thinking about that instead of what's going on in front of you, someone you care about might get hurt." He was perfectly aware she knew that, and making the statement was pointless. It was just a feint to try and keep the conversation from hitting too close to home.