That draws another hushed laugh from J, and he rests his head against S's. He remembers being hardly more than a kid, living in that studio together, the strange combination of content and restless he was back then. He dreamed of so much more. A piano like this was high up the list of things he wanted, and a home bigger and better than what they shared. At the same time, he didn't really mind the size of it, not at the start, not until he started to take umbrage with nearly everything. The heat in summer bothered him more than sharing a small bed when they would have wound up curled around each other anyway.
What they have now... There are costs, of course. Deep down, he knows they couldn't have had this kind of life back home, and being here — well, he doesn't see how he can ever leave. He doesn't have a back home to return to now. But it feels miraculous — it is — to be as comfortable and stable as they are, as safe as they could ever dream of being.
"Ah, I'm sure," he says wryly, briefly thinking of reaching out and touching the keys himself. The one at Kagura is beautiful, too, and he spent significant parts of the winter waiting for someone to chase him away from it. Right now, though, he's tired and wobbly and wants nothing more than to keep hold of S. "But that's part of the fun sometimes, isn't it?" It's probably a bad impulse, but he enjoys that feeling at times — tugging S around a corner and out of sight to steal a kiss when they were teenagers or even now when they go out as a couple and do things he couldn't have justified before, dates and movies and that kind of thing. The desire to get what he wants outweighing the knowledge it's a bad idea is one of his worser habits, all things considered. "And very romantic. Illicit piano playing."
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What they have now... There are costs, of course. Deep down, he knows they couldn't have had this kind of life back home, and being here — well, he doesn't see how he can ever leave. He doesn't have a back home to return to now. But it feels miraculous — it is — to be as comfortable and stable as they are, as safe as they could ever dream of being.
"Ah, I'm sure," he says wryly, briefly thinking of reaching out and touching the keys himself. The one at Kagura is beautiful, too, and he spent significant parts of the winter waiting for someone to chase him away from it. Right now, though, he's tired and wobbly and wants nothing more than to keep hold of S. "But that's part of the fun sometimes, isn't it?" It's probably a bad impulse, but he enjoys that feeling at times — tugging S around a corner and out of sight to steal a kiss when they were teenagers or even now when they go out as a couple and do things he couldn't have justified before, dates and movies and that kind of thing. The desire to get what he wants outweighing the knowledge it's a bad idea is one of his worser habits, all things considered. "And very romantic. Illicit piano playing."