There's scarcely more sound than a subtle shudder in his breath, Riku doesn't answer because he won't risk it, a powerful enough feeling that makes him shake under the force of it might come out as something that would only make his friend worry more. It's more than the year he spent alone only to be reunited with his friends under morbid circumstances, it's the devastation of losing them again, the long half year in the dark, the endless grieving.

The way meeting that boy who had pieces of Sora's memory gutted him with the truth his existence implied - that Sora wasn't coming back any way resembling the way Riku had ever known him, a remnant shattered into pieces and scattered across a cold and uncaring multiverse, possibly never to be whole again.

Eventually the cloth is too saturated; Riku extracts one hand from Sora's back and tips his face down into his palm, like he could smother the tracks of wet that slip out from under the blindfold.

He waited. He waited so long. He'd started to lose hope and even, on at least one occasion, had thought about giving up. Riku had found other friends and they kept each other afloat, until a carelessly spoken wish tore them apart gain and he had found himself alone.

But he's here. Sora is here. And it takes minutes to pull it together, his voice is thick and raw behind his hand, "It's okay," damn it- there's literally nothing about this reaction that's gonna seem okay, "I'm just, happy. I thought I lost you."