[ Tatara is quiet, and listening, not even idly strumming at the guitar like he would normally be as he thinks. He just watches Aguero's face as he talks, watches the way his lips move, the shine in his eyes. He's beautiful, and he's lucky (who's lucky? How? Maybe both of them, in different ways).

He sees the devotion in his past actions, and he sees the devotion in his actions now, and he understands that it was Maria who taught him that. Maybe, Tatara thinks, if he ever gets the chance to meet her, he'd thank her for making Aguero who he is today.

But when the whispers come, Tatara kind of wishes he didn't have his guitar in his hands, blocking the way between them. He wishes he could pull him into a hug and kiss away the tears he hears gathering in his voice. Instead, he leans towards him and rests his head on his shoulder.

He won't say it out loud, not now, but he'll never leave Aguero's side, not if he can help it. ]

You cared about her and you wanted to do anything you could to help her. I get that, too. [ Tatara wanted to make Mikoto a king and when he saw how much he hated actually being a king, he carried a little bit of that regret with him. Opposites, again, just like their colors. ]

Thank you for telling me, Aguero. I feel like...I understand you, the place you come from a little better now. And I still love you for it.

[ He smiles, just a touch, but he knows Aguero can't see it. Because single-minded devotion is something he knows well, and something he sympathizes with. Even if there are sacrifices along the way. ]