There's nothing fair about it, really, and J's pretty sure that what the two of them call okay would make other people crumble. They've just dealt with too much to do so now. He wishes that made him feel strong or brave. Instead, it just makes him a little sad.
What does give him strength, though, is this, the gentle weight of S's head on his shoulder. He finally lets his hand drop from S's cheek, arms wrapping around him more fully as he turns his head to kiss S's hair. "I think I really did cry a little," he admits. It was only a couple tears, but that still counts, or it does when he wants to distract S. He's too dramatic by far, they both know that. It's nice to feel okay making fun of himself for that sometimes, when there are plenty of moments when being reminded that he's over-sensitive would only make him more upset, even angry. "But only because it was perfect."
He's not sure how or even if he would have navigated this year without S. Even with him at J's side, there have been so many days J felt overwhelmed by life, and upset with himself for being upset when he has so much now, when he's so lucky. Whether or not S meant for his gift to be something that would make J emotional, he managed to make J feel seen, some unspoken reassurance that it's okay that he's still struggling with that part of himself. Saying any of that, though, feels likely to put them back on the path to tears.
"Do you want to open something else?" he asks, resting his head against S's. "Or do you just want me to hold you a while?" Even as he says it, he suspects he knows what S will choose, and he realizes that he really wants the latter himself. He doesn't want to bask in the bittersweetness so long they get weighed down by it, but he also just likes how this feels — to be warm and safe and loved, to be together in their own home at Christmas under their own tree, wrapped up in each other's arms.
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What does give him strength, though, is this, the gentle weight of S's head on his shoulder. He finally lets his hand drop from S's cheek, arms wrapping around him more fully as he turns his head to kiss S's hair. "I think I really did cry a little," he admits. It was only a couple tears, but that still counts, or it does when he wants to distract S. He's too dramatic by far, they both know that. It's nice to feel okay making fun of himself for that sometimes, when there are plenty of moments when being reminded that he's over-sensitive would only make him more upset, even angry. "But only because it was perfect."
He's not sure how or even if he would have navigated this year without S. Even with him at J's side, there have been so many days J felt overwhelmed by life, and upset with himself for being upset when he has so much now, when he's so lucky. Whether or not S meant for his gift to be something that would make J emotional, he managed to make J feel seen, some unspoken reassurance that it's okay that he's still struggling with that part of himself. Saying any of that, though, feels likely to put them back on the path to tears.
"Do you want to open something else?" he asks, resting his head against S's. "Or do you just want me to hold you a while?" Even as he says it, he suspects he knows what S will choose, and he realizes that he really wants the latter himself. He doesn't want to bask in the bittersweetness so long they get weighed down by it, but he also just likes how this feels — to be warm and safe and loved, to be together in their own home at Christmas under their own tree, wrapped up in each other's arms.