J's ready to tease S, too touched by what he says just to let it go or to acknowledge head-on how nice a thought it is when he's already so moved. He wrinkles up his nose after S touches it, though, and then S keeps talking, and J has to duck his head again, almost shy. "Ah, I know," he says, tone teasing anyway. "I never get up so early." It's true, and he'll probably end up napping later whether he means to or not, but it was worth it to see how pleased S is with the gesture.

He wanted that. It's hard here to know what exactly to get for S. It was, he supposes, the same problem that S must have had with him, finding something that wasn't sheet music but was still personal. He's always tried to give gifts that strike a balance, too, between being useful and being special, though he's never had the money to be as extravagant as his heart desires. At least baking is something where S knows he put in a real effort to do something special. Still, he hopes that the other things he got will be good anyway.

Admittedly, he did still end up buying sheet music. He's a touch nervous about that one. But S has been so patient and encouraging with him, letting him decide if and when and to what degree he wants to play again. It's a slow and uncertain process, one he's trying to approach thoughtfully, but it's impossible for him to miss, as he does so, that S isn't playing. He must sometimes at work, J is sure of that. And it probably won't ever be the way it was, the two of them playing as they once did, but they can still have music. If nothing else, Schubert's waltzes hold a special place in J's heart, and finding the sheet music for the one he played that day at Kagura felt right. It could ruin the mood, he thinks, if he got this wrong, but that's all the more reason for him to do this now, reaching for the thin box before he can think better of it. "You should open something too, you know."