It's a hard subject for both of them, J knows that. The fact that S works around music all the time... J just assumed he still played now and then, if not very often. When he says it like that, though, J can't be sure anymore, and he wants to ask, he wants to know everything, and he's not sure that's fair and he's not sure he should. S waited until he was ready to talk, even if it was in the dead of night and they were half-asleep and upset. He waited, and he encouraged J to do this exactly how he wants, not to play because he feels he has to or to stop for the same reason, just to do it if he feels he can. He's been perfect every step of the way, never making J feel anything less than supported. It's a trust that J broke a long time ago, and he's been so lost trying to repair his own understanding of what music is for him now that he doesn't think he's ever really made an effort to do the same for S. He just made assumptions and put it aside. And even if some part of him knows it's what he's had to do, that he can't take on everything at the same time or he'll break, he also feels selfish for it. He needs to do what he can to stay steady, he knows that, but there's a lot of fixing he needs to do, a lot of effort he needs to make. He's still trying to be better than he was, and he knows he's succeeded in a lot of ways, but he's still falling short in his own estimation.
He reaches out, hand resting on S's, and nods. "Okay," he says, and then gives up on that, setting the camera to the side so he can inch closer, slipping his arms around S's waist again. "Sorry," he adds quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you." He's not sure it's entirely a bad upset. It stings, yes, knowing S misses music so badly, but if it means that much, then he thinks maybe it's a good present, too, that S saying he loved it was in earnest, and that's got to count for something. Even if S only plays it at work, even if he never hears him play again — and that's something J has thought many times, but he thinks it sinks in now in a way it hasn't before, that maybe he never will — it's still something. They've recovered so much and done so well, but there are some things that might always be broken, and he still doesn't entirely know how to handle that, but even if music's been taken from them as a pair — even if he ruined it for them, really — he doesn't want S to lose it entirely.
He wants to say he misses it, but that doesn't feel fair. He's the one who pushed them apart, who damaged all of this. He doesn't get to say that and risk guilting S into playing around him if he doesn't want to. Instead he reaches up, fingers brushing through S's hair, and leans in to kiss his cheek.
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He reaches out, hand resting on S's, and nods. "Okay," he says, and then gives up on that, setting the camera to the side so he can inch closer, slipping his arms around S's waist again. "Sorry," he adds quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you." He's not sure it's entirely a bad upset. It stings, yes, knowing S misses music so badly, but if it means that much, then he thinks maybe it's a good present, too, that S saying he loved it was in earnest, and that's got to count for something. Even if S only plays it at work, even if he never hears him play again — and that's something J has thought many times, but he thinks it sinks in now in a way it hasn't before, that maybe he never will — it's still something. They've recovered so much and done so well, but there are some things that might always be broken, and he still doesn't entirely know how to handle that, but even if music's been taken from them as a pair — even if he ruined it for them, really — he doesn't want S to lose it entirely.
He wants to say he misses it, but that doesn't feel fair. He's the one who pushed them apart, who damaged all of this. He doesn't get to say that and risk guilting S into playing around him if he doesn't want to. Instead he reaches up, fingers brushing through S's hair, and leans in to kiss his cheek.