Instinctively, S wants to say that J didn't upset him. It wouldn't quite be true, though. He is upset. Still, in a way, he thinks he might have needed to be. He didn't know until now just how much he's missed it — missed playing like he used to, missed the drive he had, and more than anything else, missed playing with J. Even if he never gets any of it back, maybe it's better to have that awareness, to be honest at least with himself about it, than to bury it entirely. Maybe it's less of a loss if he lets himself feel it. Regardless, he doesn't want today to be about that, and he certainly doesn't want J to have to feel guilty about what really is such a sweet gift.
Sniffling a little, he shakes his head, carefully setting the music aside so he can lean into J without crumpling the paper at all, reaching for him with one newly freed hand. "Please don't apologize," he murmurs, fingers curling gently around J's wrist. "You don't need to be sorry. Really. This is..." It says a lot, really, that J would get him something to encourage him to play. Even if he can't respond in kind, even if it still doesn't seem worth the risk — something that J might support in theory but that would do too much damage in practice — it's deeply touching regardless. The piece itself is, too, really. Not as much as some others with more history between them, but he knows it can't be accidental that this is the first one J played after all those months, after thinking he'd never play again. Even that wasn't what it once would have been, with him sitting beside J solely for support, not to play with him, but he knows what a big deal that was. Whatever he does with the sheet music he's been given, this is, too.
It used to all but go without saying that they would get sheet music for each other, the surprise less the gift itself and more what pieces they would have chosen, and then they inevitably wound up practicing together anyway. Now he wonders if maybe he should have gotten J something along those lines after all instead of steering clear of it. He hadn't wanted to push the subject, but he's wanted to be encouraging, and now might have missed the chance for it today. Still, it's hard to say how that would have gone, if both having gotten music would have been too close to the way things were before. It aches to think so, but he knows they'll never get that time back. In so many ways, what they have now is even better, so he can't regret that at all, but it's still something of a loss in its own right.
S doesn't want Christmas to be about that. There are more than enough ways that the holiday season will always be a little bittersweet now, in the absence of his parents, without dwelling on the rest of what they no longer have.
"It means a lot," he settles on, continuing his own trailed-off sentence, his voice still a little wobbly. "That you would get this for me."
no subject
Sniffling a little, he shakes his head, carefully setting the music aside so he can lean into J without crumpling the paper at all, reaching for him with one newly freed hand. "Please don't apologize," he murmurs, fingers curling gently around J's wrist. "You don't need to be sorry. Really. This is..." It says a lot, really, that J would get him something to encourage him to play. Even if he can't respond in kind, even if it still doesn't seem worth the risk — something that J might support in theory but that would do too much damage in practice — it's deeply touching regardless. The piece itself is, too, really. Not as much as some others with more history between them, but he knows it can't be accidental that this is the first one J played after all those months, after thinking he'd never play again. Even that wasn't what it once would have been, with him sitting beside J solely for support, not to play with him, but he knows what a big deal that was. Whatever he does with the sheet music he's been given, this is, too.
It used to all but go without saying that they would get sheet music for each other, the surprise less the gift itself and more what pieces they would have chosen, and then they inevitably wound up practicing together anyway. Now he wonders if maybe he should have gotten J something along those lines after all instead of steering clear of it. He hadn't wanted to push the subject, but he's wanted to be encouraging, and now might have missed the chance for it today. Still, it's hard to say how that would have gone, if both having gotten music would have been too close to the way things were before. It aches to think so, but he knows they'll never get that time back. In so many ways, what they have now is even better, so he can't regret that at all, but it's still something of a loss in its own right.
S doesn't want Christmas to be about that. There are more than enough ways that the holiday season will always be a little bittersweet now, in the absence of his parents, without dwelling on the rest of what they no longer have.
"It means a lot," he settles on, continuing his own trailed-off sentence, his voice still a little wobbly. "That you would get this for me."