It doesn't matter how flushed or tear-stained he might be. S still thinks J is absolutely beautiful, and he makes no effort to hide it, the softness in his expression likely making it more than a little apparent. He almost says so, in fact, almost repeats himself to emphasize that, despite the countless times he's done so before and will again. What J says, though, stops him, words caught in his throat, suddenly far less important. Given the conversation that brought all of this about in the first place, it should be self-explanatory that J is glad. Still, there's a lot of weight in hearing it said outright like that. S doesn't respond out loud at first, just taking that in, trying to commit everything about this moment to memory. Maybe this will be it, all there is, a way of making their last memory of S playing a better one, or maybe they'll do this again. It won't be what it was, but that doesn't mean it can't be anything at all.

"I'm glad you wanted me to," he murmurs finally, a quiet confession, though he doesn't realize just how true that is until he's actually said it. He never would have done it otherwise; it never would have occurred to him that J might want that. "I... I didn't know how much I missed this." He knew it when he sat beside J in Kagura, but he also believed then that their roles would never be reversed. It felt so, so good to sit there and listen to J play again, perhaps even better than this, but this is a significant step forward in a different way, something that came between them for so long no longer having to do so. He doesn't ever want to go back to that.

He doesn't know what comes next, but he doesn't need to. Curled close against J's side, S stays where he is, breathing him in, still savoring this. "I feel stupid, too," he adds. "But... I would never mind playing for you. Really."