"Please," J echoes, but it's fond, hand resting in S's hair as he looks at him. He wishes he'd known this years ago — not simply known, but felt it. For so long, he turned to S with absolutely everything. Something took that away from them, some insecurity he can't explain, a paranoia he didn't know how to fight. At first, he knew it was a lie, but didn't understand how to stop feeling it. Bit by bit, he thinks, it just took over. If he'd had more sense, if he'd pushed through it, maybe things would have been better. It's something he'll need to remind himself of, he knows, as time goes on. Getting that time, he thinks, will depend on that.

"And I'll try," he adds. "I will. It's... I hate upsetting you, but I know you want to know." That's not all of it, though. He knows that as soon as he's said it, and he pushes through, making himself be more honest. "I kept telling myself I should be able to deal with it on my own, and... I couldn't. I just can't. I don't want to anymore anyway. It's..." He shrugs, uncertain. He doesn't want to say it's too hard, though it is. It still doesn't feel quite right. "It gets lonely. Not like being alone, because it's — it's like some horrible part of me telling me these things, but lonely. I need you."